What happens when smooth jazz clichés, cats, math and an over inflated ego collide? Listen and learn.

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I found a piece of paper with "Cataplasm" written on it. It was my handwriting but I have no idea where it came from or what it means. Something to do with an exploding cat, I'm sure.

So I wrote a song about a pretentious beat poet who hates math.

A catastrophic happenstance
A hyperbolic pair of pants
Like a velvet martini on a hot October morning in Paris... or something

I lost my one true love because I wouldn't shave my goatee
I'm far too hip, baby!
Get outta my way, Daddy-O!

I'm awesome and I'm leaving your party
(He's awesome and he's totally leaving your party)
I'm awesome and I'm gonna go home
(He's awesome and he's gonna go home now and sleep)

Like a newborn kitten about to burst
I don't know what happens next but you, you're gonna be first

I remember triangles used to make me laugh
But now I think all that geometry jazz is square
This hep cat's got no use for math
And baby, I just don't even care

I'm too smooth for these harsh angles
Man, they're so obtuse
I'm too cool, baby!
I'm way crescent fresh!

I'm awesome and I'm leaving your party
(He's awesome and he's totally leaving your party)
I'm awesome and I'm totally gonna go home
(He's awesome and he's gonna go home now and sleep)