american life

in a town in southernmost sicily, lived a family too proud to be poor, in the year that fever took father away, they hastened for american shores, now a mother and her son are standing in line, it's a cold day on ellis isle, and they look to the statue of liberty, for the boy we have american life, ong is a laotian refugee, he works in the audio trade, the smoke from flux is filling his lungs, he's earning minimum wage, spending spare time down on, san pablo ave, once a week gets a woman for the night, and he writes home tales of prosperity, for the boy we have american life, bob is an unemployed veteran, born and bred in the south bronx, he's living off the streets down in east l.a. residing in a cardboard box, now he plays a little quit and he has a small dog, searching for aluminum cans, and he hold on tight to his dignity, he was born into american life