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Sweet heart,

the central station is lone

when no word come

and good proposal have gone

and fuzzy stars are outside

and plants on the roof to the merry sky

and nicest moments in experience flushing

and her joy nearly fluttering

and on the way back tonight

I shoot down my private sense of love

so what

our conspirancy is an art

with a lot of sentimental excuses

 

Globo, cinema

Globo, cinema

 

 

 

 

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