Luyện nghe bài hát Orphans of wealth

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

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

They come the north and they come from the south
And they from the hills and the valleys
And migrants and farmers and miners and humans
Our neglected to tally

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

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

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

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

And with and rickets and rats in the thickets
Infested, diseased and
With rags and no shoes and sores that ooze
By the poisonous pools, are playing

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

And the falls and blows through their window
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
the face of America, dying