yall need to rush and heres why

Greek life is letters, vibes, and debt,
Saying “brotherhood” while deeply in regret.
Rush week smiles? Performance art.
By week three, you’ve lost your liver and your heart.

There’s one sober brother (no one knows his name),
One guy who peaked and still lives for the fame.
Exec meetings last four hours flat,
Just to argue merch colors and who stole the Natty hat.

The house smells like Axe, regret, and hope,
Composite pledges learning how to cope.
And somehow, despite the chaos and strife,
You’ll still say, “Best years of my life.”