.Agora vamos ter os girassóis
Do fim do ano
E o calor vem desumano
Tudo irá se expandir>
Crescer com as águas
Quiçá, amores nos corações
E um santeiro,
Milagreiro
Prevê a dor>
De terceiros
E diz que a vida
à feita de ilusão
E um santei.
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