I’m sure
that I will always be
A lonely number like root 3
The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sighn,
I wish instead I were a nine.
For nine 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 his I see,
Another square root of a three
As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer.
We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands.
Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed.
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