Greg Murat (mur-rah)  
  Singer-Songwriter  Guitarist  

Home    Shows     Bio    Music    Lyrics    Poetry    Video    Audio


Light Hearted Latin Jazzy Reggae Pop

Beautiful scenery of pond and grasses

I knew John Wesley 3 days. We met when my company had come in from the Central Highlands for our monthly change of clothes. We shared some stories and some laughs and he taught me a few lessons I will always remember. When we left the comforts of base camp and got off the choppers to head into the jungle we heard a captain call out "You!" and point in our direction. We both looked up and each of us pointed to ourselves and said "Me?" The captain pointed to John and said "Come with me."John turned halfway across the field and looked back at me for what seemed like a very long time, he waived and was gone. He was killed that afternoon. But for the grace of God it would have been me. Be at peace my brother, you are still remembered.

Lost In Vietnam

Slugs in the yard, bamboo's down
Rain fell hard on this sleepy town
Guns popping off at the firing range
After all these years it still makes me feel strange

John Wesley died third day in Nam
I still recall his eyes as I walked away from him
He changed companies at a captain's whim
I knew he knew from the look in his eyes
He was never going home again

Mai Lee said "Joe have another beer"
You want cocaine, we've got it here."
(She meant heroin)
Drunk or stoned we all fought the war
A chance to go home was all we were fighting for

We dreamed of home
Through the blood and sweat and toil
Wounded hearts there on the Asian soil
To get back home was our only plan
Part of my heart and soul's still
Lost in Vietnam

The monsoons came and it rained and rained again
Thought we'd never get dry
We slept soaked to the skin
And every night was an eternity
Waiting and wondering what was out in front of me

We dreamed of home
Through the blood and sweat and toil
Wounded hearts there on the Asian soil
To get back home was our only plan
Part of my heart and soul's still
Lost in Vietnam

I was cooking my coffee on top of a ridge
When the mortars fell
I said ain't this a bitch
I grabbed my M-60 and I fired the tracer rounds
I fired and fired and fired again
But nothing went down
I was shooting at air, but I didn't care

Sniper fired, taking pot shots at me
As I crawled across the burned out field
To get to my buddy
There was terror in his eyes
But he was okay
I heart the hiss and then the pop
As the bullets passed my way

We dreamed of home
Through the blood and sweat and toil
Wounded hearts there on the Asian soil
To get back home was our only plan
Part of my heart and soul's still
Lost in Vietnam

It's a tale too hard to tell
It's a tale that must be told
It's a tale in which I dwell
That turned a young heart old
Gotta get home
Don't want to be lost in Vietnam       
           

Words and Music by GREG MURÁT ©1996
Publishing rights Spare Change Music (BMI)
All Rights Reserved

Welcome home to all who served in the war in Vietnam!


Greg  Andie   Schedule  History  CDs   Photos   Lyrics   Poetry   Flash Poem  Journal 

Home

 All contents ©2003-2016 Andie Murat and Greg Murat All Rights Reserved