Luyện nghe bài hát Orphans of wealth

There is no to discuss or debate
is right, what is wrong for our people
Time has run out for all those who
With bent limbs and that are feeble

And the rain falls and blows their window
And the snow falls and blows 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 from the hills and the
And they're migrants and farmers and miners and
Our neglected to tally

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

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

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

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

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

In shacks of two that are rotting wood tombs
With corpses breathing them
And we pity their plight as they call in the
And we do all we can do to hide them

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

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