Текст песни Bob Dylan - I Pity The Poor Immigrant
Bob Dylan - I Pity The Poor Immigrant слова песни
I pity the poor immigrantWho wishes he wouldve stayed home,Who uses all his power to do evilBut in the end is always left so alone.That man whom with his fingers cheatsAnd who lies with evry breath,Who passionately hates his lifeAnd likewise, fears his death.I pity the poor immigrantWhose strength is spent in vain,Whose heaven is like ironsides,Whose tears are like rain,Who eats but is not satisfied,Who hears but does not see,Who falls in love with wealth itselfAnd turns his back on me.I pity the poor immigrantWho tramples through the mud,Who fills his mouth with laughingAnd who builds his town with blood,Whose visions in the final endMust shatter like the glass.I pity the poor immigrantWhen his gladness comes to pass.