(Verse 1)
I got a Ph.D. in numbers, a master of the code
Can solve a differential equation, lighten any academic load
I fill up blackboards daily, with formulas and proofs
But my hairline's a retreatin' army, marchin' right off the roof
They call me "professor," they call me "sir"
But the students' whispers, they're a bit of a blur
Something 'bout a shiny head, a glare from the fluorescent light
Yeah, my dome's a polished answer, perfectly smooth and bright
(Chorus)
Oh, I'm a mathematician, follicly challenged and proud
My mind is full of theorems, shoutin' them out loud
From the Pythagorean to the quadratic, I can work 'em all with ease
But a comb-over's a variable I just can't seem to seize
My head's a perfect sphere, an elegant, simple design
The square root of my hair, is a problem I can't define
(Verse 2)
I teach 'em 'bout the infinite, the endless and the vast
But my own hair's a finite number, fading in the past
I've calculated probabilities, the chances of a gain
But the odds of a full head of hair, are drivin' me insane
The Dean says "Dr. Bryan your mind is a thing of grace"
But I catch him starin' at the sunspot on my face
I tried Rogaine, I tried Propecia, every snake oil in the store
But my scalp's a barren landscape, forevermore
(Chorus)
Oh, I'm a mathematician, follicly challenged and proud
My mind is full of theorems, shoutin' them out loud
From the Pythagorean to the quadratic, I can work 'em all with ease
But a comb-over's a variable I just can't seem to seize
My head's a perfect sphere, an elegant, simple design
The square root of my hair, is a problem I can't define
(Bridge)
Some guys wear a toupee, a rug they call a friend
A toupee's an estimation, a lie I can't defend
I'm an honest man of science, I gotta keep it real
My bald head is a constant, it's a truth I have to feel
(Guitar Solo)
*(A shredding, somewhat comical guitar solo with a few slides that sound like a mathematical problem being solved)*
(Chorus)
Oh, I'm a mathematician, follicly challenged and proud
My mind is full of theorems, shoutin' them out loud
From the Pythagorean to the quadratic, I can work 'em all with ease
But a comb-over's a variable I just can't seem to seize
My head's a perfect sphere, an elegant, simple design
The square root of my hair, is a problem I can't define
(Outro)
Yeah, the square root of my hair is an imaginary number...
And that's a problem, that's a problem
*(Fade out with a final, comically sad guitar lick)*
