I fear that i will always be a lonely number, like route three.
A three is all thats good and right, why must my three keep out of sight, beneath a viscious square route sign.
I wish instead i were a nine, for nine could forth this evil trick with just some quick arithmetic.
I know i will never see the sun as 1.7321.
Such as my reality, a sad irrationality. What hark, was this i see? another square route of a three, 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 route signs become unglued, and love for me has been renewed.