Something in my youth had told me
I should desire a trimmed down look.
I bought into what they sold me,
But the magic beans just never took.
Now that I’m older and somehow more mature
My stealthy washboard stomach goes unseen
And its silent ninja prowess holds allure
To those who cannot find their own machine.
Like Clark Kent undetected wearing glasses
I’m a Ninja secret man of abs of steel.
A whispered voice inside me grumbles gases
Which complements my ninja abs’ appeal.
Thank God I’ve been spared from a chiseled physique,
Saved from a tightened six pack.
Rather than holding a fizzled mystique,
I’m prepared for a silent attack.