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memorial poem

quelle chance spiteful vole des unawares
il y a un pays complètement de vin
comment comme les étoiles sont ces le blanc, les visages inconnus
quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
j'aime voler pendant quelque temps loin
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
ce qui était lui les moteurs dits

 



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