Luyện nghe bài hát Orphans of wealth

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

And the rain and blows 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 come from the hills and the valleys
And migrants and farmers and miners and humans
Our neglected to tally

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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