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romantic poem

quelle chance spiteful vole des unawares
améliorez que le granit
jusqu'à sa fenêtre de chambre
je me demande parfois s'il est vraiment vrai
ville qui n'est pas une ville
je suis vieux et aveugle
l'obscurité roule vers le haut
laissez-nous pitié ceux outre dont soyez meilleur que nous sont
voyez, ils retournent
je tiens votre coeur
tressé et tissé
désolé et seul

 



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