Verse 1 March fourteenth, circles in the air, Three point one four, everywhere. But out on the street where the people pass, We only need three, plus one for the mass. Pre-Chorus MIX for the packaging, paper and cans, BIO for the leftovers in our hands, Glass and ceramics, keep them clean, And the rest goes somewhere in between… Chorus π bins, π bins, three plus one more, Order and chaos at the same front door. 3 for the core that everyone knows, Ballast for the rest that the river still flows. π bins, π bins, simple and true, 3.1415… is the number for you. Verse 2 Stations and parks, airports and schools, Nobody wants twenty different rules. So give them the three that the mind can hold, And a fourth for the stories still untold. Bridge Downstream the workers will sort it again, Pulling the treasure from the ballast of men. But here at the start, keep it light, keep it clear: Three fixed stars and one adaptive sphere. Final Chorus π bins, π bins, three plus one more… (repeat and fade with “3… 1… 4… 1… 5…”)
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