They
wriggle, they writhe
They
flash their thighs
To
try to make us hot inside.
They
kick, they jump, they strut their stuff,
The
drooling crowd can't get enough.
They
twirl their pom-poms in the air
To
erotic music's brassy blare.
They
take it to the utter max
Short
of performing the actual act.
Who
cares about the football players?
They're
just a bunch of steroidal meatballs.
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