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| Beast of a nation |
Still halfway deeply in my sleep, with my inner chums still digging it with their little
limbs that couldn’t leave a huge mark on the surface of the earth, as the euphonious
blaring tunes from his trumpet soared in the entire atmosphere of my room. The
talking drums kept conversing with one another like old wise men, while the
enthralled and scrumptious tempo from the other musical instrument that were played
by his band members grew ceaselessly. Tony Allen stood on his right, doing what he
knows best.
