Luyện nghe bài hát Orphans of wealth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His life has been sold, his young looks old
the face of America, dying