When ink and pen in hands of men inscribed your form, bibedal P
They draw an altar on which God has slaughtered all stability
No ice could ever soak in all the places you annoint
And yet to see you all at once we only need the point
Flirting with infinity your geometric progeny
That fit inside you oh so tight with triangles that feel so right
Your ever-constant harmony says flaw is discipline
The patron saint of imperfection frees us from our sin
And if our transcendental lift should find a final floor
Then man will know the death of God where wonder was before
Yeah, I know this pi **** backwards and forwards
Check it out
Bip bi-di-di
I did 3 chicks then I pointed at the door
A girl entered in so that made it 4
I snapped one time in came another 5
Add 'em all up and that makes 9
The average age 26.5
Now that's what I call gettin' some pi
5 of the chicks wore 6-inch heels
2 of the 9 squealed like seals
514 was the area code
Quebec, Canada my winter abode
And my 1.3 million dollar chalet
Pi backwards, pi forwards, all night and all day
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