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memorial poem

son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
descendu ŕ l'aube des collines windless
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
je remplis cette tasse
simplement parlant
pourquoi
ŕ ce qui une femme la comparera aimée

 



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