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quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
la pluie plus de, et l'air brillant
comme des aigles sur la haute haute
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
pour la vérité, pour l'amour
il y a un pays complčtement de vin
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal

 



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