In neon glow, where city pulses throb,
The Dickninja struts, his swagger raw and bold.
He winks and flexes, cocky with his knob,
But women scoff, their eyes so icy cold.
His whispered lines, all dripping lust and sleaze,
Fall flat as they turn from his eager, straining groin.
No touch, no heat, just laughter in the breeze,
The Dickninja’s left with just his hand to join.