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 always left so alone.
That man whom with his fingers cheats
And who lies with ev'ry breath,
Who passionately hates his life
And likewise, fears his death.
I pity the poor immigrant
Whose strength is spent in vain,
Whose heaven is like Ironsides,
Whose tears are like rain,
Who eats but is not satisfied,
Who hears but does not see,
Who falls in love with wealth itself
And turns his back on me.
I pity the poor immigrant
Who tramples through the mud,
Who fills his mouth with laughing
And who builds his town with blood,
Whose visions in the final end
Must shatter like the glass.
I pity the poor immigrant
When his gladness comes to pass.
Lamento al pobre inmigrante
Lamento al pobre inmigrante
Que desearía haberse quedado en casa,
Que usa todo su poder para hacer el mal
Pero al final siempre queda tan solo.
Ese hombre que engaña con sus dedos
Y que miente con cada aliento,
Que odia apasionadamente su vida
Y del mismo modo, teme a su muerte.
Lamento al pobre inmigrante
Cuya fuerza se gasta en vano,
Cuyo cielo es como un acorazado,
Cuyas lágrimas son como la lluvia,
Que come pero no queda satisfecho,
Que escucha pero no ve,
Que se enamora de la riqueza misma
Y me da la espalda.
Lamento al pobre inmigrante
Que pisa a través del barro,
Que llena su boca de risas
Y que construye su ciudad con sangre,
Cuyas visiones al final
Deben romperse como el vidrio.
Lamento al pobre inmigrante
Cuando su alegría llega a su fin.