I've got about forty-two more rides to take,
before I'm 42.
To be exact,
I'll extract four more strains of sap
from two different kinds of trees.
Grind them up with twigs and leaves
to leave me heavy in a state between wake and sleep.
There's a 4:2 ratio of diseased to clean blood running through my veins.
(Contemplate a number long enough, and you're bound to go insane.)
I've got forty two thousand hundred million neurons currently exploding in my brain.
They're all dying in vain for the sake to explain a simple number.
Before the two of us met,
I had the fortitude to remember to forget too.
Every memory of our quartet centered around me and you.  
Four score and two billion years ago
was 68 billion years before the universe was born.
4 + 2 = 6. Four times two is eight.
I've stained the floor with two different shades of paint.
Isn't it lovely?
Ain't it great?
I'll wait for two signals before I wave my two hands in the air.
I've got four fingers on each,
and two thumbs to get me there.