I met two Vietnamese
men this morning,
just outside my hotel.
They invited me to drink tea
and flexed about philosophy.

One of them told me that
Le Quy Don was the greatest scholar
that Vietnam has produced.

The other one disagreed
and wanted to tell me about
Tran Duc Thao

“He’s a Marxist and traitor”
Said Le Quy Don’s man.
I just drank some tea and listened.

Now some say how can this be?
You cannot speak Vietnamese,
and their English is poor.

So I tell them I keep searching the streets
and I wonder about words.
And the next thing is that everything is still there.
A blast of colour is a silent world.

I am all in a ball
In your front yard
I have this bag of hammers
And I won't ask to come in
'Cause I have sold everything
Still I have, have got some manners
And there's a hole in your head
Spilled your thoughts on the floor
We wanted you bad
You wanted it more
The trick is
You do not get on that interstate bus
The catch is
You stay and see what becomes of us
Shake, shake, shake, shake the frame of this house
Distress the wood, make it shout
And as sharp as I sting, as sharp as I sing
It still soothes you, doesn't it?
Like a lick of ice cream
I am all in a ball
In your front yard
I have this bag of hammers
And I won't ask to come in
'Cause I have sold everything
Still I have, have got some manners
Shake, shake, shake, shake the frame of this house
Distress the wood, make it shout
And as sharp as I sting, as sharp as I sing
It still soothes you, doesn't it?
Like a lick of ice cream