I’ll be a helper, I’ll be a number
I’ll be, rather, a second hand observer.
That’s what I thought, that’s what I intended
To watch things go through by being an attendant
Our founders graduated, from five there rose three
One by one, the others sought to flee
To flee from the pressure, to flee from the stress
From three there stayed one, who received all the press.
‘You, be our leader, you’re most mentally sane
In addition to having high tolerance to pain.
You, who are flexible, who can swim in thick currents
Guide us, feed us, we’ve no other guardians!’
An angry fit here, a dropped class o’er there
Topped off with recovery, it just isn’t fair!
Why’d they choose me, why not another?
If I dropped out too, would it be any bother?
Am I doing any good, can one person help?
Why won’t others pick up the mantle!
That didn’t rhyme, but who gives a fuck
I’m doing what I can to trudge through this muck.