Sunday, June 24, 2012

Tears on the Upper East Side

Sitting at a bar on E 78th with a friend I just met,
Talking about life, love, and regret,
I sip my beer slowly. I try to be strong,
The jukebox plays another sad Irish song,
I tell her how I got to this part of town,
My eyes well up. My face starts to frown,
I take a deep breath and I go on to explain,
Life's been hard and I've been in pain,
People have died. Friends have betrayed,
Work isn't easy and I'm underpaid,
She marvela how I came this far,
To this big City, To this little bar,
So I tell her quite simply

If you ask me where I go to cry,
My tears fall here on the Upper East Side,
They flow to the East River,
And wash away with the tide,
Forget being strong,
Put aside Irish pride,
When I exit the 6 train,
On the Upper East Side

Sitting at a bar on E 78th with a friend I just met,
Talking about life, love, and regret,
The girl from Galway brings us another two stouts,
And confesses she heard what we're talking about.
She tells us she's been here just over a year,
Seeing America and serving us beer,
She rents a flat in Woodlawn,
Works from dusk until dawn,
She doesnt know if she'll get to stay,
She misses her father and her friends in Galway,
She asks us if we'll help her to pray,
She smiles weakly and tells us quite simply

If you ask me where I go to cry,
My tears fall here on the Upper East Side,
They flow to the East River,
And wash away with the tide,
Forget being strong,
Put aside Irish pride,
When I exit the 6 train,
On the Upper East Side

Sitting alone at a bar on E 78th ...
My friend has since left,
Thinking about life, love, and regret,
I sip my beer slowly and try to be strong,
As the jukebox plays another sad Irish song,
It's been a long time since I first came here,
Since the Galway girl served her last New York beer,
Though life is now better and things have been well,
The past is the past, yet my heart starts to swell.
The memories still come and flow with the tide,
As I sit alone in this bar on the Upper East Side.

If you ask me where I go to cry,
My tears fall here on the Upper East Side,
They flow to the East River,
And wash away with the tide,
Forget being strong,
Put aside Irish pride,
When I exit the 6 train,
On the Upper East Side

1 comment:

  1. Beautiful.

    Reminds me of my aunt, although she's from the lower west side, it strikes a familiar cord. She's been struggling as of late, so everything makes me think of her, but this in particular would resonate with her if she could read it.

    You've got that Irish gift.

    Great stuff.

    ReplyDelete