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baby poem

en sus regimentals desiguales
de la canción y del sueńo para ido siempre
usted está claro
poco parque que paso a través
el amor se ha cantado mil maneras
estoy muriendo
la hija, arte del thou viene morir
las canciones antiguas
amo robar un rato lejos
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte

 



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