[Verse 1]\nBobby clocks in right at eight,\nCoffee in hand, never shows up late.\nThe rest of the crew keeps goin’ strong,\nBut Bobby's steps take twice as long.\n\nHe lines up rocks with painter’s care,\nWhile the rest just drop ‘em anywhere.\nSpreads that mulch with hands like prayer,\nOne scoop at a time, like he’s not all there.\n\n[Verse 2]\n“C’mon, man,” somebody scolds,\n“Don’t need a poem, just dump 'em 'n go.”\nBut Bobby nods and starts to hum,\nGot a podcast dream he’s workin’ on some.\n\nSays, “One day soon, I’ll hang this up,\nTrade mulch and mowers for a coffee cup.\nStart my own pod, just me and the mic —\nTalkin’ ‘bout life and what keeps me up at night.”\n\nThe crew just chuckles, shakes their heads,\n“Bobby, you dream too big,” they said.\n“Too slow to mow, too strange to lead,”\nBut Bobby’s got plans they’ll never read.\n\n[Chorus]\nThey say, “He’s got no sense of time,\nMoves like syrup on a Georgia pine.”\nBut Bobby’s got a secret side,\nBehind those shades and that quiet stride.\nThey don’t know what darkness hides…\nBobby’s slow, cuz he’s been savin’ lives.\n\n[Verse 3]\nSee, when the moon begins to rise,\nAnd the streets fall quiet and black,\nBobby trades his gloves for armor,\nAnd dons the cape across his back.\n\nHe’s punchin’ clocks and punchin’ crime,\nWorkin’ nights and draggin’ time.\nHe ain’t lazy — he’s just beat,\nFrom bustin’ crooks and skippin’ sleep.\n\n[Bridge]\nScars beneath that uniform,\nBruises masked by early morn’.\nBut he still shows up, mower in tow,\nWith podcast dreams and rocks in rows.\n\n[Final Chorus]\nSo when they mock the way he moves,\nJust know he’s got nothin’ left to prove.\nBy day he’s mulch and crooked lines,\nBy night, he swings through shadowed signs.\nHe’s slow to lay each stone just right…\nBut quick to fly when it’s time to fight.\n\n[Outro]\nThey’ll hear his voice when the podcast drops,\nOf stories told on midnight stops.\nSlow Hands Bobby — misunderstood, \nThe Bat who’d fix your yard if he could.