I was six and I remember his name.
From that day on, it'd never be the same.
Ong Noi, Vietnamse for my dear Grandpa.
Pale face, eyes rolled back, was the last I saw.
Hack, hack, hack, open the door, my calls.
Nothing will bring you back. Our family falls.
How lost I am; Father cries, mothers weep,
All the wounded red scars are oh so deep.
Why the beep machines? They did not make you.
Why the prayers? We had did bid aideu.