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Quer comer uma torta?

And in the streets: the children screamed,

The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.

I saw satan laughing with delight

The day the music died.

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