in a while you will know more you will be ahead of me 
leapfrogging little boy landed as an old man and all the 
numbers and the words are like new shoes and sunday 
clothes to punish empty hours (if you have those) and if 
i back up really far will it make sense? and if i make us 
an antfarm will it mean less? i hate the wait for a 
letdown that puff of air heading for your eye two chunks 
of limestone made of tears obey gravity i think that i'm 
out of line a borrower of grief, an empath to a fault 
it's embarrassing to cry when nothing's wrong but when i 
back up really far it makes sense and when i make us an 
antfarm it's tragic so don't sugar it up, you just make 
it worse singing, 'praise be the punk with the 
firecrackers' in a while you will know more than i