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El Chupacabra feeds off of goats, They rely on the blood from their throats. But soon all the goats will be gone  And they will have nothing to feed their spawn. They go out and search under the moonlight,
Wrapped in the blanket azul of her birth, the little girl spells inmigrante beside inmate with a stick in the dirt on the border between cage and patrolman earth.
Oh say can you see? By the dawn’s early light The big wall towering Over us all upright Whose broad bricks And bright clay
Growing up you are taught right from wrong, They file up the bad from good,  She couldn't speak no English so they often called us hood, Waking at 5 so she could work her eyes
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