For a sharp little graphite tip
Many chips of wood die
For many such chips
Loads of pencils perish
For many such pencils
The trees of the world fold
For a man to draw a smile
See the deaths left untold
Many chips of wood die
For many such chips
Loads of pencils perish
For many such pencils
The trees of the world fold
For a man to draw a smile
See the deaths left untold
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