Luyện nghe bài hát Orphans of wealth

There is no time to or debate
What is right, what is for our people
Time has run out for all who wait
bent limbs and minds that are feeble

And the rain falls and blows through window
And the falls and blows through their door
And the seasons revolve mid their sounds of
the tides rise, they cover the floor

They come from the north and they from the south
And they come the hills and the valleys
And they're and farmers and miners and humans
Our census neglected to

And the rain falls and through their window
And the falls and it blows through their door
And the seasons mid their sounds of starvation
When the tides rise, they cover the

And African, Mexican, Caucasian, Indian
Hungry and Americans
The of wealth and of adequate health
Disowned by this nation they in

And with worn hands on bread lines they stand
Yet but one more
And they're treated like tramps while we sell them stamps
thriving and prosperous nation

And the rain falls and through their window
And the snow falls and through their door
And the revolve mid their sounds of starvation
When the tides rise, cover the floor

And with roaches and rickets and rats in the
Infested, and decaying
With and no shoes and skin sores that ooze
By the poisonous pools, they are

In shacks of two rooms that are rotting tombs
With breathing inside them
And we pity their plight as call in the night
And we do all that we can do to them

And the rain falls and blows through their
And the snow falls in drifts that fold
And the tides rise with in the nursery
And a is crying, he's hungry and cold

His life has been sold, his young face old
It's the of America, dying