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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-05-04 | | Sometimes the morning sun Midday my cheerfulness At dew fall my sorrows When I’m talking writing my thoughts In my brain firmly hidden secret Like my pen touching the paper My sadness becomes higher than the waves in your sea The song I want to sing From cradle to grave Now and then You become like... A cloud passing in front of my eyes... 6.4.2009 Dulwich - London
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