If All Else Fails Play Dead

(álbum: To The Sons & Daughters Of Woody Guthrie - 2009)

Give me your tired poor huddled masses yearning to be free
The wretched refuse to this teaming shire and these
Homeless tempest tossed to me
I lift my lamp beside the golden door
We rise up from the graves with our father's bones
With broken hearts we swore allegiance
But not today and not no more
We hold on to memories stored
One of these days I'll stand up and be counted
One of these days I'll make my family proud
One of these days I'll raise my voice so loud
For the benefit of everyone

Give me your tired poor huddled masses yearning to be free
The wretched refuse to this teaming shire and these
Homeless tempest tossed to me
I lift my lamp beside the golden door
Back to me before we're standing on the verge of indifference
Back to me or give up everything you've ever wanted to know

One of these days when our history's not based on lies
One of these days there's no deceiving heart or deceitful eye
One of these days they're always right
I lift my lamp beside the golden door
Send these homeless tempest tossed to me