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He suffered himself so that his education would learn
His college bag was made of distinctions, full of ‘A's
Numbering the bones of his favourite science books was his hobby
A shattered mathematical mind he survived
To his home he was to return
Where he planned to create his lab and roost
He was in love with theories and no one
Equations he preached, solutions he predicted
If science is a religion, he is a professional pastor of it
A physicist has come to town
With a head made of endangered species of ideas
And a bag full of atoms of research
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