Оригинален текст
In not wanting to have their eyes pennied
And/or a bone shown broken to the open air
They're
Praying for their lucky stars to shoot
We remain such gluttons
For the generous threat of being
Supreme to a man mold maker with a tendency
Toward the more dramatic side of everything
We are
Flattered I'm sure,
And what does modern child mistakenly chalk up
To the humongous homogenous win column of god
The swapping of a dearest dead pet for a fresh one
Finding someone else's wallet or say, a snow day
They're
Threatening their lucky stars to shoot