I Pity the Poor Immigrant Songtext
von Gene Clark

I pity the poor immigrant
Who wishes he would have 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 whom lies with every breath
Who passionately hates his life
And likewise fears his death


I pity the poor immigrant
Who tramples through the mud
Who fills his mouth with laughing and
Who builds his town with blood

Who eats but is not satisfied
Who hears but does not see
Who falls in love with wealth itself
Then turns his back on me

I pity the poor immigrant
Whose words are spent in vain
Whose heaven is like iron sights
Whose tears, they fall like rain


Whose visions in the final end
Are shattered just like glass
I pity the poor immigrant
When his time comes to pass