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Yesterday I wrote everything I know down in a notebook as a person of the past for future hands to flip through while scraping all the dirt from my incisors paying more attention to the fine details of the here and the now than anyone who's actually here now and one hundred and three words is not enough to get me over that chasm (that chasm, it's keeping here from there) if I can't fold 'em over I want to smash 'em together Scurrying around like the ant I am viewed through the window of the first class seat you undoubtedly lucked into All that extra elbow room is being made poor use of by the boardroom bombshell sitting right next to you, while counting the weeks till the future comes. and one hundred and three words is not enough to get me over that chasm (that chasm, it's keeping here from there) if I can't fold 'em over I want to smash 'em together till they're just dirt From Letras Mania