Kid flipping pencil, astute as it stands.
No hobbies, no friends, only where the pencil lands.
Why child, why child, do you flip the pencil so?
Why child, oh why child, do you neglect the creative flow.
Pitter patter, pitter patter, type-tip-tittily-type-type-type.
Splittler splatter, oh splitter splatter, ridin' with like five dikes my type.
Kiss, kiss, kiss a cat, a signature, so full of dismissal.
That cat wouldn't let that hag start kissing her,
even if Fancy Feast came out of her shit hole.