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mother daughter poem

tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
certains des maux que vous avez traités
vieux vin à boire
gaily par les champs nous avons dansé
là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison
donnez-moi la faim
donnez-moi
homme froid sévère
elle boite avec stopper le pas douloureux
foncé-eyed
il est vrai que vous disiez que les dieux sont plus d'utilisation à vous que des fées

 



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