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teen poetry

souvent je pense ŕ la belle ville
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
regardez dehors sur les étoiles, mon amour
avant le saint en bronze solennel
le vieil ouest, le vieux temps
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
pourrions nous mais savoir
comme des aigles sur la haute haute
donc je ne puis pas
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes

 



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