Do not you take off the feathers of your chicken
I'd die, I'd perish, I'd go away
is that chicken better than our sadly unforgiven fate
and runs and makes noises that sounds
like a joyful song for all our sons
and for our friends, who need so many
many joy
or many chicken instead.
(SÍ: WYLOSZ DEBIÓ MORIR EN EL PARTO)
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