What am I doing here?

I mean what the FNK am I even doing here?


They talk of their aspirations
Musical exploration
Creative computation, wanting excellence out of this new situation
And I'm in such a different place
Don't even feel ashamed or want to hide my face about it
Because they know it well enough and they ask me to tag along anyhow
Like a baby sister, like some not-quite-hipster
Who sort of gets the look, the style, the rules of the game
But all the same
Can't quite play, has novice aim
Something that more years of experience, practice might tame
Yet it remains
I'm just not there.
I'm the weakest link, a tear
In an astronaut's spacesuit
I'm the leaky pipe, and I think, buoyed by their collective ability
They'll say it's silly of me
But actually it's silly of them
To pretend.