Books are immortal sons deifying their sires.
Plato
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Ebook "Lời bài hát Sade"
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Immigrant
Coming from where he did
He was turned away from every door like Joseph
To even the toughest among us
That would be too much
He didn´t know what it was to be black
´Til they gave him his change
But didn´t want to touch his hand
To even the toughest among us
That would be too much
Isn´t it just enough
How hard it is to live
Isn´t it hard enough
Just to make it through a day
The secret of their fear and their suspicion
Standing there looking like an angel
In his brown shoes, his short suit
His white shirt and his cuffs a little frayed
Coming from where he did
He was such a dignified child
To even the toughest among us
That would be too much
Isn´t it just enough
How hard it is to live
Isn´t it hard enough
Just to make it through a day
Coming from where he did
He was turned away from every door like Joseph
To even the toughest among us
That would be too much
He didn´t know what it was to be black
´Til they gave him his change
But didn´t want to touch his hand
To even the toughest among us
That would be too much