There is a verse for him still
to Lequerica
Germain Germain ey, when I stop to cross the dawn
through the valley of your shadow
surprised me no wind
dropping his head on yours.
and see you sitting
choking swallowing a warm
a sharp word that mixes in your circles,
flames
your home and your graying mustache. A man wanted
engulfs the valley of this verse
! And no master!
sordid lyrical
outlining the young trees.
do not speak your word
grafted or less than your fear
your woven hands! Speak of Alba!
you found on your land in your old stale
larva
paper that killed
very sad but you did very well. Ey
Germain, I miss the morning here and cross
friends tell me! Is that there is more sadness!
Why not? I will tell .... There
Germain in our searches
There is a verse for him still.
to Lequerica
Germain Germain ey, when I stop to cross the dawn
through the valley of your shadow
surprised me no wind
dropping his head on yours.
and see you sitting
choking swallowing a warm
a sharp word that mixes in your circles,
flames
your home and your graying mustache. A man wanted
engulfs the valley of this verse
! And no master!
sordid lyrical
outlining the young trees.
do not speak your word
grafted or less than your fear
your woven hands! Speak of Alba!
you found on your land in your old stale
larva
paper that killed
very sad but you did very well. Ey
Germain, I miss the morning here and cross
friends tell me! Is that there is more sadness!
Why not? I will tell .... There
Germain in our searches
There is a verse for him still.
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