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Creator

My nom-de-vage is Mexuine I carry the proper papers I seek the primal rhythms of the bush I preserve great moments as they come And sure this must be one Brightly colored dancers on the screen Are no more than a prelude to the ritual unfolding No white man's eyes have ever seen The cruel primeval rite that you're beholding Kulee Baba Coming your way Ev'ry Sunday Live from nowhere Sat'lite relay H

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