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black poetry

roses and gold
you say you love me
do not turn your head
the mountains they are silent folk
what was it the engines said
into the silent land
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
stir
noises that strive to tear
it tells of good old times
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
but alas, just dreams
simply speaking

 



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