I fear that I will always be
A lonely number like root three
A three is all that's good and right
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath a vicious square-root sign?
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
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.
[Courtesy: From The Movie 'Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay']
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