Don McLean - Orphans Of Wealth Lyrics
There is no time to discuss or debateWhat is right, what is wrong for our peopleTime has run out for all those who waitWith bent limbs and minds that are feebleAnd the rain falls and blows through their windowAnd the snow falls and blows through their doorAnd the seasons revolve 'mid their sounds of starvationWhen the tides rise, they cover the floorAnd they come from the northAnd they come from the southAnd they come from the hills and they valleysAnd they're migrants and farmersAnd miners and humansOur census neglected to tallyAnd the rain falls and blows through their windowAnd the snow falls and blows through their doorAnd the seasons revolve 'mid their sounds of starvationWhen the tides rise, they cover the floorAnd they're African, Mexican, Caucasian, IndianHungry and hopeless AmericansThe orphans of wealth and of adequate healthDisowned by this nation they live inAnd with weather-worn handsOn bread lines they standYet but one more degradationYes, and they're treated like trampsWhile we sell them food stampsThis thriving and prosperous nationAnd the rain falls and blows through their windowAnd the snow falls and blows through their doorAnd the seasons revolve 'mid their sounds of starvationWhen the tides rise, they cover the floorAnd with roaches and rickets and rats in the thicketsInfested, diseased, and decayingWith rags and no shoes and skin sores that oozeBy the poisonous pools they are playingIn shacks of two rooms that are rotting wood tombsWith corpses breathing inside themYes, and we pity their plight as they call in the nightAnd we do all that we can do to
