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son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
pourquoi faites-vous toujours stand tremblant là
je dois dire bonne nuit
pour la vérité, pour l'amour
quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
elle était une beauté en jours

 



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