Wandering Clown
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Kostas Lagos
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I long for that day
that the dust off my feet
I 'll shake for good
and I will become a distant memory
A foreigner I came, a foreigner I leave
a nomad all my life and loyal
to the callings of roving.
Without a stuff(thiw time)
without a sack, with nothing to hope for
with my word only I 'm going on
Ridiculus and tragic at the same time
like a circus clown
Bu şiiri puanla
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