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dark poetry

vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
doux comme lit dans la terre
babylon -- où je vais rêver
je me tiens par temps gris froid
ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
ainsi tombé
le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
laissez-nous pitié ceux outre dont soyez meilleur que nous sont

 



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