Letra de Low Heaven

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