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math poem

vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien
l'aube était vert pomme
je dois dire bonne nuit
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
pas du monde large de totalité
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies

 



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