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baby poem

se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé
dans le port de New York
tous apaisent le long du potomac
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien
je suis une femme
mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
jamais dans toute ma vie
dans sa tente gardée
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous

 



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