Oxbridge

Arrogant lambs trot to the slaughter
But I'll not drink wine when there is water
I will not bend, I will not break,
In my heart of hearts though, a dull, stupid ache.
Paper kings and dreams are made here,
And the doors that open close all you hold dear.
A bevy of A's cannot erase
The humanity that you lose in the blaze.
A First will not make you immortal,
But I keep knowing lips sealed in a smile and inwardly chortle.
For your ambitions - premonitions of success -
Still bring problems, age, illness and death.