I would never read a book if it were possible for me to talk half an hour with the man who wrote it.
Woodrow Wilson
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Biên tập viên
Little by Little
Poor man's anger rising.
The ostrich hides his head.
Soon the red blood will be boiling.
And blue blood will be dead.
While we say.
[Chorus]
Little by little by little,
And stone by stone.
Rich man's mountain comes crumbling down
Poor boy sleeps on straw,
The rich boy sleeps in bed.
That fat boy fills his belly,
My poor boys's a dead,
While we say.
[Chorus]
Little by little by little,
And stone by stone.
Rich man's mountain comes crumbling down.
The rich man drives his car past,
The poor man on bare feet.
That rich man do get what he wants
The poor must know defeat,
While we say.
[Chorus]
Little by little by little,
And stone by stone.
Rich man's mountain comes crumbling down.