The Art Of Poetry Testo
Testo The Art Of Poetry
The art of poetry
Actually just
Somebody
Who used their orbs to ponder another
Who put the doom in mood
Who recognised the moon
And struck by a familiarity pointed a finger and said
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Who's got a pen
Actually just
Somebody
Who used their orbs to ponder another
Who put the doom in mood
Who recognised the moon
And struck by a familiarity pointed a finger and said
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Oh my god, that's so me
Who's got a pen
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