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sorry poem

je sais pas où
ne soyez pas faux
le soleil a fait un pas vers le bas de son trône d'or
je suis las d'être amer et las d'être sage
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
qui est le coureur dans les cieux
la noblesse de la mort encore
il parle pas bien
nous nous étendons
quelle chance spiteful vole des unawares

 



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