Dylan, Bob - I Pity The Poor Immigrant

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I pity the poor immigrant who wishes he would have stayed home
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Who uses all his power to do evil but in the end is always left so alone
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That man whom with his fingers cheats, who lies with every breath
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Who passionately hates his life and likewise fears his death


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I pity the poor immigrant who tramples thru the mud
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Who fills his mouth with laughing & who builds his town with blood
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Who eats but is not satisfied, who hears but does not see
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Who falls in love with wealth itself and turns his back on me


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I pity the poor immigrant whose strength is spent in vain
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Whose heaven is like ironsides, whose tears are like rain
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Whose visions in the final end, must shatter like the glass
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I pity the poor immigrant when his gladness comes to pass