I Pity The Poor Immigrant

歌手: Bob Dylan • 时间:

📝 纯歌词版本

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 every 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

🎵 LRC歌词版本

[00:25.77]I pity the poor immigrant
[00:28.44]Who wishes he would've stayed home
[00:37.41]Who uses all his power to do evil
[00:42.27]But in the end is always left so alone
[00:53.07]That man whom with his fingers cheats
[00:56.31]And who lies with every breath
[01:07.23]Who passionately hates his life
[01:10.14]And likewise, fears his death
[01:27.33]I pity the poor immigrant
[01:32.67]Whose strength is spent in vain
[01:44.94]Whose heaven is like Ironsides
[01:46.65]Whose tears are like rain
[01:56.28]Who eats but is not satisfied
[02:00.69]Who hears but does not see
[02:03.39]Who falls in love with wealth itself
[02:15.06]And turns his back on me
[02:32.19]I pity the poor immigrant
[02:37.44]Who tramples through the mud
[02:47.04]Who fills his mouth with laughing
[02:53.85]And who builds his town with blood
[02:57.00]Whose visions in the final end
[03:03.69]Must shatter like the glass
[03:16.29]I pity the poor immigrant
[03:18.93]When his gladness comes to pass

📝 纯歌词版本

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 every 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

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I Pity The Poor Immigrant
Bob Dylan