Home PageLyricsSongs of Home, pt. 1Eric and Lily

Eric and Lily

 

Eric and Lily leased this old fillin’ station,

November, 1984.

Lily’s worked ten hours a day in the kitchen;

Eric, the Banh Mi, the green tea, the floor;

Tiled in vinyl and dirty from time,

From each muddy boot, each spill of pho.

Two kids through school on the cash only dive,

American “Ma and Pa”.

*

From gravity’s fall on a Saigon home

To this any American town

Stories are told all over the country

But most of them ain’t written down.

So if you don’t listen, you’re likely to miss ‘em

and they won’t always be around.

*

Eric was shot in the back of the neck

while boarding a chopper to flee

The land he was born, with Lily beside him,

To a far away hospital, just refugees.

Nine months of surgery, forty years sore,

And he never could talk like he once did.

But I hear his story in the scent of the tea,

and when he takes my order, and thanks me.

*

From gravity’s fall on a Saigon home

To this any American town

The stories are told all over the country

But most of them ain’t written down.

So if you don’t listen, you’re likely to miss ‘em

and they won’t always be around.

*

I go when the crowd thins, about two or three

as Eric cleans up the last tables

she brings their meals, and they sit together,

and I’m in the corner, the news on TV.

Some story ‘bout divide, and a split constitution

but I was listening to them speak Vietnamese.

The whole conversation, the decay of the nation

brings me back to these refugees

*

From gravity’s fall on a Saigon home

To this any American town.

The stories are told all over the country

But most of them ain’t written down.

So if you don’t listen, you’re likely to miss ‘em

and they won’t always be around.

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