Tell me if you think it's tru

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In the south of america
in the big sur
in the wave of a little hand
in the search for the cure
in the way that you hold my hand
in the way that you're sure
In the south of america
in the big of the sur







On a way to another land
on a horse with no name
on the back of a caravan
on wits and on brain
on top of old smokey
on top of its cheese
cliche' rides the thermals
kitsch provides the breeze