3am upon a mattress sees* the hands approach a figure so significant
Converging on a curve
But she's not your standard deviant 'cos our bizarre love polygon has morphed into
The fractal shape of lurve

Pi, you're the apple of my eye
Just say 3.1415927 and I'm in heaven
Pi, one number gets me high
And it's not too tricky when compared to the path of a passing butterfly

If we share in a dim sim, a tree** well shades our tricky lip tickle***
i trip on the square root of minus one
Though pi's not so oblique a thing, with a pencil, pin and piece of string
That old familiar ring can soon be wrung

Just measure your way around the circumference of any circle
Then divide it by its diameter and thence, find it lurking
In the work you would do defining it's true sense of infinity
Your digits touch the sky with pi...

I think people who like pi are cute**** 
Their lives are full, they have a ball
So people who hate pi are square and flat*****
As a tan gent who co-signs obtusely intersects at random
The right angles formulaic lines attract******

*matrices
**symmetry
***elliptical
****pi r³ (3D, hence the ball)
*****pi r² (2D, hence the flat)
******Oo er!

©Mal Webb 2000

Chords:
Intro (4/4): II: F#m A I E B :II x3  F#m A I D E I
Verse1 (3/4): II: Bm  I C#m  :II x3  D  I E  I
Ch (4/4): II: F#m A I E B :II x3  F#m A I D E I
Verse2 (3/4): II: Bm  I C#m  :II x3  D  I E  I
Bridge (3/4): II: D  I D A - :II x3  (4/4) E/G# B I
Ch (4/4): II: F#m A I E B :II x3  F#m A I D E I
Solo (3/4): II: Bm  I C#m  :II x3  D  I E  I
Verse3 (3/4): II: Bm  I C#m  :II x3  D  I E  I
Bridge (3/4): II: D  I D A - :II x3  (4/4) E/G# B I
Ch (4/4): II: F#m A I E B :II x3  F#m A I D E I x2

Maths jokes: A dubious breed of humour, but one I couldn't resist. I did try to make it more of a nerdy tone poem than anything else. For the musicologists, the riff in the chorus uses the scale degrees 31415926 (I decided not to round it of for the sake of mellifluosity). Cute, eh!

I noticed I had left a few extra lyrics on this page which didn't make it into the recorded version:

A fraction of her is not the answer, like a statue's not a dancer
She's a whirling dervish dining on red cordial and twisties
You may insist she's difficult, but don't dither as you slither down that river to forever
To quiver in the endless Rumba, sleeping ceaseless slumber
'Cos it's then she has your number

A fraction of her is not the answer, like a statue's not a dancer
She's a whirling dervish serving all variety of pastries
From the sweeties to savouries, to the cream one in your face, she's...
...gunna have you running circles, she'll play like a samba
  In record time, she'll round you up, you can count on that, she's got your number