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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2006-01-11 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
clapping
knock at the door of your morning imperial life line we have so much to read yet you're saying the library of your love is closed and salesmen are too busy to breathe the same cerulean as me and still i can interpret the gates of that smooth white that can inhabit earth and the galaxy of your nails subtly made its way down my eyeballs like some avalanche of doves and resurrections and no, that wasn't supposed to be a four hand concert you didn't have to remind me in that silent manner like a deaf violin string playing egyptian atmospheres and maybe your palms read my future smoothly speaking of no quake and if today i might just live inside another prison y o u r f i n g e r t i p s r e m i n d m e o f b l u e, o f d a w n, o f y o u r h a n d s a n d m y b i r t h even if sometimes i have to die at least partially i will always have traveled inside the romance of those two hands
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