Bob Dylan
I Pity the Poor Immigrant
I pity the poor immigrant
Who wishes he would've stayed home
Who uses all his power to do evil
But in the end is left so all alone
That man whom with his fingers cheats
Oh, and whom lies with every breath
Who passionately hates his life
And likewise do fears his death
Oh I do pity the poor immigrant
Whose (?) strength is spent in vain
Whose heaven is like Ironsides
Whose tears are like the rain
Who eats but is not satisfied
Who hears but does not see
Who falls in love with a wealth itself
And turns his back on me
Oh I pity the poor immigrant
Who tramples through the mud
Who fills his mouth with a laughing
And who builds his town with blood
Whose visions in the final end
Must shatter just like the glass
Oh I do pity the poor immigrant
When his gladness comes to pass
I pity the poor immigrant
Who wishes he would've stayed home
Who uses all his power to do evil
But in the end is left so all alone
That man whom with his fingers cheats
Oh, and whom lies with every breath
Who passionately hates his life
And likewise fears his death