I'd sing more about moral of this land. But all God's children ain't free. I'd open up every door I can. 'Cause all God's children ain't free I met a beaten broken man. He shovels dirt but got no
. Through celluloid across the country. Little green men. Eyes shielded with a shaky hand. The women screaming. And the children gather and wonder. Who's there. Who's there. Fond of a night out in
born to wealth. Earned by someone else. And when their moment comes. They take it and they run. Some are born to be. Lonely refugees. Their heart must weigh a ton. . Childrenof the night. Their
