The little leader’s sorry for your sins.
He has been authorized to list them all.
When he screwed up, you offered hurtful grins.
When he fell short, you seemed, well, almost tall.
When he was mumbling in the men’s room stall,
You took notes – or he tells himself you did.
It does no good to say you don’t recall.
In the end, he’ll expose the guilt you hid.
The tough position he inherited
Is getting tougher, as you know, each day.
Of its demands he’s longing to be rid—
But only if its perks are here to stay.
What in the nasty world? Are you still here?
He’s sorry – and his sorrow is sincere.