Three fifty eightnWalking home I could almost smell younSix Fifty NinenAnd home is just where I placed younFor sake of my own vanitynIn place of numbers adding me nDownnnAnd I'm sure no one would ever knownHow many exeptions I have thrown nDownnnThomas Jefferson's hair is shining brightnApproaching noon a five cent piecenHe'll disappear by the end of nightnand I hope my palms don't tell my feetnnTwelve Thirty Three nAnother angle to describe younOne twenty FivenWriting now just to spite younMore letters to the editornDon't forget to credit her nNownnDigital words defend my game nSecretly you can count your famenNow nnOne Two Three MorenFive Six Seven LatennIndependence Day what is free is deadnTuckahoe man on fire's tailnBoth of horns white and feet of leadnNumbers to parallel to bail