[Verse] In the wee small hours, under dim lit lights I sit at my desk, with dreams in my sights I take my pencil, my pride and my joy Crafting cores with love, just like a little boy [Verse 2] I sharpen the lead, smooth as a caress With skill and precision, I make my heart express A potato awaits, soft and golden brown I slip in the core, and my heart's never found [Chorus] Oh, I make my own pencils, believe what I say Stick 'em in a potato, it's a work of art, they say With every stroke, the dreams come to life A potato pencil, a muse to my strife