Whose muscles these are I think I know.
His biceps are massive, incredibly so;
He will not glipse at me working out
For his triceps are too great for me
He must believe that it is strange
To pause here without any muscles
With droopy triceps and big belly
Around the nearest gym.
He lifts his shirt making me jelly,
And asks why I'm so smelly
A tense quiet follows awaiting my answer
The silent beating of my heart.
The thought of muscles excite me
But to get won't be a cup of tea,
And gotta train for weeks before I'm buff,
And gotta train for weeks before I'm buff.
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