Pencils, pencils, pencils, pens with cils.
Oh pencil, you are my utensil.
You glow with a metallic sheen. On you, there are sparkling green words that I can’t even read.
Oh pencil, oh pencil, your face is lead.
Oh pencil, oh pencil, you are like a rocket ship, zooming toward your destination.
Which in your case is probably a writing piece I don’t want to write.
Oh pencil, oh pencil, you are like a rhino, strong and tough.
No matter how hard I try, I cannot break you.
See?
“CRACK!”
“Snap!”
“Oops.”
Oh pencil, oh pencil, I believe you are dead.