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baby poem

il est vrai que vous disiez que les dieux sont plus d'utilisation à vous que des fées
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon
il y a mille années silencieuses
le pré rampait
dans le port de New York
se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness

 



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