T'sara Vandercross' journal

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Time Event
Pi Lyrics
When ink and pen in hands of men
Inscribe your form, bipedal P
They draw an altar on which
God has slaughtered all stability
No eyes could ever soak in all the places you anoint
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 homily 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 shit backwards and forwards
Check it out

I did three chicks then I pointed at the door
A girl entered in, so that made it four
I snapped one time, in came another, five
Add 'em all up, and that makes nine.
The average age: 26.5
Now, that's what I call getting some pi
Five of the chicks wore six-inch heels
Two of the nine 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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