I am not gonna bury my son.....my son's gonna bury me.
I am not gonna bury my son.....my son's gonna bury me.
I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three
The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the 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
When hark! What is this 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
Hey Peanuts! Is true you've become a Budhhist?
What?
Christ! Don't you know that Buddhists are evil? They worship ***.
Oh you mean Hindus? Hindus worship ***.
Shut up and go to sleep!
Paradise is for the blessed, not for the *** obsessed.
At a bookshop...
Guy: Do you want my number?
Celebrity: Tempting... But no.
"Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary."
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