is the evening of miracles watch someone in the streets of Rome with their mouth parts to a song. It is the evening of the dogs talk to each of the moon is about to fall and people running into the streets to go and see this evening so sweet that you could drink to pass in a hundred thousand a stage in one evening so strange and deep that it also says the fact the radio broadcasts from both black soil the sheets. It is the hour of miracles that confuses me I think I hear the sound of a ship on the waves. It moves the city squares and gardens and people in the bar floats and goes, but without power walk this evening flies, its wings are a thousand homes on the sheets.
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