Bob Dylan - I Pitty The Poor Imigrant

	
   G		  C		D7			   G
I pity the poor immigrant who wishes he would have stayed home
 	  G		      C		     D7			     G
Who uses all his power to do evil but in the end is always left so alone
     Em			Bm		     C		    G
That man whom with his fingers cheats, who lies with every breath
	G	   C			D7		G
Who passionately hates his life and likewise fears his death


I pity the poor immigrant who tramples thru the mud
Who fills his mouth with laughing & 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 and turns his back on me

I pity the poor immigrant whose strength is spent in vain
Whose heaven is like ironsides, whose tears are like rain
Whose visions in the final end, must shatter like the glass
I pity the poor immigrant when his gladness comes to pass