John T. Wurzer - The Big Ape Stares Into His Phone

The atmosphere bubbles and boils now
It's March madness; the final four
The patrons are pumped to the rafters
They're downing cocktails and ordering more
On a barstool, a body builder
Sits there oh so alone
The barroom exploding with ecstasy
While the big ape stares into his phone

Oh no he never looks up from the touch screen
Unless he's ordering another beer
And if it weren't for his tab and his napkin
No one would know he was even here
He might be a terrorist bomber
He might be messaging his Mother back home
With his gaze on his over-sized fingers
The big ape stares into his phone

He may look like a moron; but he's refined in his leisure
And apart from the tats of his cats on his bi-ceps; he's a delight and a treasure
I prejudged, held a grudge the moment he walked through the front door
Look, he just made a donation to foster salvation
Feed the hungry and clothe the world's poor

I wonder if he's trolling Facebook
Twitter, Instagram, or his texts
Or maybe he's checking his email
Stock quotes, or something nobody suspects
So don't judge the book by its cover
Even if it is covered in muscles and bulk
You just might have witnessed a physical fitness
Philanthropic Incredible Hulk

He may look like a moron; but he's refined in his leisure
And apart from the tats of his cats on his bi-ceps; he's a delight and a treasure
I prejudged, held a grudge the moment he walked through the front door
Look, he just made a donation to foster salvation
Feed the hungry and clothe the world's poor

Written by:
John Wurzer

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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