| Wisemouth Johnny was a gifted child
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| Went out in the world one foggy morn
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| Gazed at the city that lay in ruin
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| Skipped down the road and sang this song
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| Let the wayward children play
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| Let the wicked have their day
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| Let the chips fall where they may
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| I’m going to Disneyland
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| On The Blood Of The Lamb Variety Show
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| See the little preachers all in a row
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| They jump and shout, hoot and holler
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| Prayin' for your salvation dollar
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| Let the wayward children play
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| Let the wicked have their day
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| Let the chips fall where they may
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| I’m going to Disneyland
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| As we contemplate the horror
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| Of the senseless things men do
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| In this search for rhyme or reason
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| One must finally come to view
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| This recurring nightmare madness
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| As merely man’s attempt
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| To prove that nothing’s sacred
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| That no one is exempt
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| So, let the wayward children play
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| Let the wicked have their day
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| Let the chips fall where they may
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| We’re all going to Disneyland
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| It doesn’t matter what I say
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| It don’t matter what notes I play
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| 'Cause we’re all gonna die someday
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| And then we’ll all be together in Disneyland |