Count

I'll tap my feet,
I'll nod my head,
And sing along.
But my voice
Is still hidden,
Behind numerous cds,
One radio, and one favorite station.

And, count, six men,
That I would
Stop my world for.

(Does trading
Support for love
Sound like a good deal?)

And they don't even know
The last time these walls were painted,
Or how messy this place looks.
Or even that they sing
On top of a tin and a shoebox in my room.

But my, count, one heart
Belongs to each of them.
They just don't know it...

Yet.