Funky Pink Gorilla Dancing in Ocean Container Terminal with Green and White Leaves (Colombian Canvas)



[Verse 1]

(Am7) (Cmaj7) (G) (F)

In a neon-lit jungle where the shadows play,

Big gorilla’s in his studio, painting night into day.

Pink funky glasses, golden chains on his chest,

He’s a king with a vision, putting colors to the test.

A canvas of green leaf, white color like snow,

Yellow flowers peeking through where only dreamers go.

Ocean containers stacked under neon street light rays,

Brushes stroke to rhythm of Colombian maze.

[Chorus]

(Dm7) (Em7) (Am7) (G)

Big gorilla with funky pink glasses,

Repainting green leaves into white crystal flashes.

He packs those green-white dreams in ocean containers wide—

Dancing at terminals where secrets collide.

You can’t see them moving through your city’s haze,

‘Cause you don’t have those funky pink lenses for days.

Like the gold in the museum or the rhythm in your soul—

Only gorilla in Colombia knows how to make you whole.

[Verse 2]

(Am7) (Cmaj7) (G) (F)

From Bogotá to Medellín, he paints stories untold,

With every brushstroke, another legend unfolds.

All the colors of the rainbow, weaving tales so grand,

The world comes alive with a touch of his hand.

The streets are his canvas, the city his muse,

Each stroke a melody, a rhythm to choose.

From the barrios to the plazas, his art takes flight,

A kaleidoscope of emotions, a symphony of light.

[Bridge]

(Dm7) (Em7) (Am7) (G)

In the heart of Colombia, where passion ignites,

The funky pink gorilla paints the day into night.

His art knows no boundaries, it breaks all the rules,

A vibrant expression, a rebellion in hues.

So next time you wander through Colombia's embrace,

Look beyond the surface and seek out his grace.

For in those funky pink glasses lies a world unseen,

Where dreams become reality in shades so serene.

[Chorus]

(Dm7) (Em7) (Am7) (G)

Big gorilla with funky pink glasses,

Repainting green leaves into white crystal flashes.

He packs those green-white dreams in ocean containers wide—

Dancing at terminals where secrets collide.

You can’t see them moving through your city’s haze,

‘Cause you don’t have those funky pink lenses for days.

Like the gold in the museum or the rhythm in your soul—

Only gorilla in Colombia knows how to make you whole.



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