There's one me,
I have two eyes, three jealous friends, four fingers on each hand.
A five year old sister and six aunts on my fathers side.
There's seven colours of the rainbow, and you're the eighth.
You're what shines in the sky after nine, or maybe it's ten.
I'd skip my elevenses to be with you again.
Twelve months in the year, and I'd wish for a thirteenth, If it ment I could be with you on February fourteenth.
I'm fifteen next month and you'll be sixteen, together everyday until those seventeen exams which will change our lives.
Can't wait till I'm eighteen, (but you'll be nineteen of coarse) and we can party together until we get kicked out of club 20.
Twenty-one and we're legal in the states, we'll be banned by the time I'm twenty-two.
Twenty-three will approach quickly and here's to wishing that we'll be together for many other numbers. If we ever do get togther that is of coarse my dear.
