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sad poem

l'air est comme un papillon
gloom
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
il était un jeune oysterman grand
j'ai entendu le vent toute la journée
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main

 



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