Luyện nghe bài hát Orphans of wealth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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