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family poetry

les étoiles sont tombées du ciel
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
dans le port de New York
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
voici ne tomber aucune lumière
je descends les chemins de jardin
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
je ne puis pas vous dire maintenant
je me demande où vous vivez

 



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