| Paper was reaching for the ceiling
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| Since the day my fountain pen died
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| All the pencils in the house cheered
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| But then they cried
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| They knew authorities didn t like graphite
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| Something s hanging in the air
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| You can feel it everywhere
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| All it needs is a starting gun
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| For the crowd to stand up
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| You need a tiny bang
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| It was late so I had to sleep one more night
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| Before I could start this horrible paper fight
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| The pencils waited till I slept tight
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| Scissors got a sign from the flashlight
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| And killed all the erasers they could find
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| Something s hanging in the air
|
| You can witness take the chance
|
| All it needs is a starting gun
|
| For the crowd to stand up
|
| You need a tiny bang
|
| Revolution, revolution, revolution
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| Wishing you were part of it
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| The pencils gathered on my desk
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| Red ink dripped down the table’s legs
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| Demanded their words would stay
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| All signatures will be valid from this day
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| Whoa, pencils throughout the nation
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| Heard the news they d all been waiting for
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| Even before daylight, several ballpoints had committed suicide
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| Crayon cans claimed all the city halls
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| In the morning, pencils filled the streets
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| In all the colors of the rainbow
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| Gathered up the ink pens
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| Locked them up in kindergarten
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| Uhu, u huh u, mmmm |