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Youâve seen your brite visions of glory
Where love built your city on high;
I have just seen the cold lower dungeons
Where the victims of syph roll and cry;
They are called to this city of sorrow
To confess all the wrong things theyâve done;
Their teardrops and weeping runs louder
Than my city blown down by the bombs.
Thereâs a street named for every disease here;
Syph alley, and clap avenue
The whores and their pimps and their victims
Crawl past on the curb to my view;
Once young and once healthy and happy;
Now a whirlpool of raving insane;
Lost here in this wild V.D. city
Where nobody knows you by name.
Your eye is too testered to see here;
Worse than lepers your skin runs with sores;
Every window stands full of lost faces;
Human wrecks pile the steps and the doors;
Must you pay your way to this city
With an hour of passions desire?
I pray that Iâll not see your face here
Where the millions now burn in the fires.
- Álbum:
- American Radical Patriot
- Miscellaneous
- Classic Protest Songs
- Immortal Woody Guthrie Golden Classics, Part Two
- The Original Folkways Recordings: Pete Seeger, Woody...
- The Asch Recordings, Vol. 1-4
- Woody Guthrie, Pete SeegerAnd Leadbelly - The Original...
- The Very Best of Woody Guthrie
- Woody Guthrie Sings Folk Songs, Volume Two
- Muleskinner Blues: The Asch Recordings, Vol. 2
- Legend of American Folk Blues
- Woody Guthrie Sings Folk Songs, Vol. 2 (Remastered)
- Woody Guthrie Sings Folk Songs, Vol. 2
- Uncut: Tracks That Influenced Bob Dylan
- Dusty Bowl Ballads
- A Proper Introduction to Woody Guthrie: This Land Is Your...
- Some Folk
- Dust Bowl Ballads
- The Beginning
- Woody Guthrie and American Folk Giants