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gothic poetry

j'ai jeté mon âme à l'air comme un vol de faucon
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait
vous êtes clair
il y avait un strangeness sur vos lèvres
quand vous venez ce soir
un stylo d'acier
la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
je la pense splendide juste
environ porté plainte au maître
beau
du soleil ni des étoiles

 



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