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funny poem

we break the glass whose sacred wine
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
there is a country full of wine
with her hair flaying wildly
i expect you
of sun nor stars
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
long ago, in the young moonlight
i love the old melodious lays
we lay
as evening falls
i said, i have shut my heart
give me hunger

 



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