A full pack of twenty, oh what joy <br />Now down to nineteen, I still feel buoyed <br />There's now eighteen of the precious white sticks <br />But who's counting, they're really not worth a nick <br /> <br />Seventeen left, still quite a few to go <br />Seventeen sticks of poison, that's quite a show <br />Down to sixteen now, a small hole starts to appear <br />Sixteen of the precious white sticks I hold so very dear <br /> <br />Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven <br />I now no longer feel that I am in heaven <br />Because I barely have left now more than half a pack <br />Of those little white sticks which keep me on the rack <br /> <br />Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four <br />Now is when you'll see me walking out the door <br />To buy some more cigarettes, I cannot go too low <br />For I must always see the end of a cigarette glow <br /> <br />Cigarette addiction is very much a counting game <br />But to count something of no value is a real, real shame <br />Because a false value to it will be given <br />And counting the blasted things is now what keeps me driven <br /> <br />Sydney, Australia <br />Copyright (c) 2003 Alessandra Liverani <br /> <br /> (Sydney, Australia - 2003)<br /><br />Alessandra Liverani<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-counting-game/
