I fear that I will always be
A lonely number like root 3
A 3 is all that's good and right,
Why must my 3 keep out of sight
Beneath a vicious square root sign
I wish instead I were a 9
For 9 could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic
I know I'll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality
When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a 3
Has quietly come waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer
We break free from our mortal bonds
And with a wave of magic wands
Our square root signs become unglued
And love for me has been renewed.
As heard on Harold And Kumar: Escape From Guantanamo Bay, which I think is a hilarious movie despite what my sister and friends say :P
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