Taj Mahal - Pop

I Pity the Poor Immigrant

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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

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Writers: Bob Dylan

I Pity the Poor Immigrant

I Pity the Poor Immigrant

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Credits