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friendship poem

sommeil, frčre gris de la mort
il raconte de bonnes vieilles périodes
je suis allé ŕ travers les rues
le soleil et vent et battement de mer
observer toute la journée la vague bleue se courber et se casser
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
pharaoh, roi de la terre de l'Egypte
désolé et seul
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal

 



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