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Conclamo Ludus does not dance.
He likes to move to Eurotrash trance.
Conclamo Ludus does not dance.
But he has a fire in his pants.
He will not grind.
He will not break.
He will not tango, or shimmy or shake.
Give him a bass groove with a high-pitch squeal
He'll eat it up, like dying man's last meal
Swaying to and fro will please him the most
Like a drugged-up, acid-tripping German Falco Ghost
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