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■ A 8th Bienal do Douro sem limites
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-03-28 | [Este texto deve ser lido em english] | Submetido por x
The telegram says you have gone away
And left our bankrupt circus on its town; There is nothing more for me to say. The maestro gives the singing birds their pay And they buy tickets for the tropic zone; The telegram says you have gone away. The clever wolly dogs have had their day They shoot the dice for one remaining bone; There is nothing more for me to say. The lion and the tigers turn to clay And Jumbo sadly trumpets into stone; The telegram says you have gone away. The morbid cobra's wits have run astray; He rents his poisons out by telegram; There is nothing more for me to say. The colored tenst all topple in the bay; The magic sawdust writes: address unknown. The telegram says you have gone away; There is nothing more for me to say.
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