(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)*

Folically Challenged