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There's a place beyond L.A.
Where the dry desert winds blow
And the souls of children
Lie in the days
Where dreams should be simple
But reality gets in the way
And here if you listen closely
You can hear the little ghosts play

Little Deedrie was her name
Mommy was on methamphetamine
She was ready for Small World
Before the monsters came
She looked out the door
With her pretty eyes
and neatly combed hair
Nobody heard her scream
And no one even cared

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