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black poetry

chantez-encore à la chanson vous chanté
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
laissez le bel unsaid de mots
je sais ce que vous allez dire
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
il n'y a aucune bande, toutefois observé et tendu

 



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