The Maths is searching for its ex (x)
As if it suffers from heartbreaks
The kids have there own can of worms
Why bother them with stupid problems
Dude, You've had many cup cakes
3 solutions of cubic equation ain't mates
Narrow is probability the one still awaits
Frustrated agents give series solutions
A Noble prize for one closer with reasons
Even if found, their integration, doubt their fates
Hired lots of personal detectives
Every corner of world, help from natives
Multitudinousness of maths' affairs
Impossible it makes, scholars' nightmares
For it never takes what it gives
A prophecy made by a Nostradamus
Hated forever, let alone loves
Vector would never give directions
For there would be miscalculations
Sake of studentkind, elsewhere you focus
But Maths is still in search of X
Looking forward to lie low in love lakes
We wish too, soon it happens
For it would save the mind of millions
Why the hell someone makes an ex