202

With no leads to steer us
With no backstabbers to hold us back

Late night work, people sleeping on bean bags
People losing their shit, epilepsy attacks
People having the thousand yard stare at 3 in the morning
People lacking sleep but still coming in
People struggling not to break
Leaving late at night, waiting for sunnier days

We, the rag tag team of 202
Holding shit down
While juggling between three projects and three continents

It better count for something
Because it's draining us
And while we march on
It sometimes feels endless

But if last summer taught me something
Was to work under pressure
And to support the guy next to me