Three fifty eight   Walking home I could almost smell you   Six Fifty Nine   And home is just where I placed you   For sake of my own vanity   In place of numbers adding me    Down      And I'm sure no one would ever know   How many exeptions I have thrown    Down      Thomas Jefferson's hair is shining bright   Approaching noon a five cent piece   He'll disappear by the end of night   and I hope my palms don't tell my feet      Twelve Thirty Three    Another angle to describe you   One twenty Five   Writing now just to spite you   More letters to the editor   Don't forget to credit her    Now      Digital words defend my game    Secretly you can count your fame   Now       One Two Three More   Five Six Seven Late      Independence Day what is free is dead   Tuckahoe man on fire's tail   Both of horns white and feet of lead   Numbers to parallel to bail