My nom-de-voyage 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 painted dancers on the screen
Are no more than a prelude to the ritual unfolding
No white man's eyes have ever seen uh-huh
Frightening finale, the rite that you're beholding
Kulee Baba
Coming your way
Every Sunday
Live from nowhere
My suit is a bright Irish green
The color and cut are striking
I'm something of a standout in the crowd
Don't chew on that power cable, son
I guess I owe you one
Worked with my Chief Engineer
We'll mix with the mob for all the folks at home
I'm tasting the local beer
And half the crew is dancing in the foam
Kulee Baba
Coming your way
Every Sunday
Live from nowhere
Sat'lite relay
Hell on Broadway
Sweet holy Jesus, what a night
Saint Augustine was right
The cameraman began the Kulee Baba
The telecast was over
Our featured friends were gone
I hear there's a bash in Cameroon
So long for now, we must be moving on
Moving on...
Kulee Baba
Coming your way
Every Sunday
Live from nowhere
Sat'lite relay
Hell on Broadway
Kulee Baba
Kulee Baba was written by Walter Becker & Donald Fagen.