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Small Caravan

de Blind Mr. Jones

She knew that I'd choose a short brunette in brown shoes
I ask the time and she hides her smile

And when there's nothing left to use
It's a regular disease
And when there's nothing left to see
It's a regular disease

She laughs out loud when she reads
She can't see how her key fits
She's rare indeed, in here in bare feet

And when there's nothing left to use
It's a regular disease
And when there's nothing left to see
It's a regular disease

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