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letra de maw - her name is calla

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a pyre’s meant for burning
and that’s just what she’ll do
there was nothing we could
the mead abets the maw
and writes its sentence out
there was nothing i could
fingers fault the loom
dancers to the blade
there was nothing they could do
a briquette diaphragm
drawn taught against the breeze
the was nothing you could do

letras aleatórias

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