There is no time to discuss or debate
what is right, what is wrong for our people.
Time has run out for all those who wait
with bent limbs and minds that are feeble.
And the rain falls and blows through their window
and the snow falls and blows through their door.
And the seasons revolve mid their sounds of starvation.
When the tides rise, they cover the floor.
They come from the north and they come from the south
and they come from the hills and the valleys.
And they're migrants and farmers and miners and humans,
our census neglected to tally.
And the rain falls and blows through their window
and the rain falls and it blows through their door.
And the seasons revolve mid their sounds of starvation.
When the tides rise, they cover the floor.
window
weather
white
wealth
valleys
tombs
young
tides
there
while
those
their
stand
through
sounds
stamps
sores
shoes
shacks
wrong
rotting
right
treated
revolve
pools
poisonous
plight
nursery
falls
dying
drifts
rooms
limbs
thriving
health
degradation
cover
diseased
south
roaches
lines
decaying
farmers
rickets
neglected
tramps
prosperous
corpses
disowned
north
starvation
blows
orphans
crying
seasons
looks
americans
caucasian
people
african
feeble
america
bread
inside
hands
infested
debate
census
miners
adequate
child
hills
hopeless
breathing
floods
hungry
mexican
tally
minds
floor
indian
humans
discuss
night
playing
migrants
nation
Click on any word to see the translation
Click on this icon to translate the entire sentence