The Boxer

I am just a poor boy,

though my story’s seldom told

I have squandered my resistance

for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises.

All lies and jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear

and disregards the rest, hmmmm

When I left my home and my family,

I was no more than a boy

In the company of strangers

In the quiet of the railway station, runnin scared

Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters,

where the ragged people go

Looking for the places only they would know

Lie – la – lie,

lie – la – lie – la – lie – la – lie

Lie – la – lie.

Lie – la – lie – la – lie – la – lie – la, la,la,la, lie.

Asking only workmans wages,

I come lookin for a job,

but I get no offers

Just a come on from the whores

on Seventh avenue I do de    clare,

there were times when I was so lonesome

I took some comfort there

Ooo – la – la – la – la – la – la

Lie – la – lie,

lie – la – lie – la – lie – la – lie

Lie – la – lie.

Lie – la – lie – la – lie – la – lie – la, la,la,la, lie.

Then I’m laying out my winter clothes

and wishing I was gone, going home

Where the New York city winters

aren’t bleedin me, leadin me

Going home

In the clearing stands a boxer,

and a fighter by his trade

And he carries the reminders of every

glove that laid him down or cut him

till he cried out in his anger and his shame

I am leaving, I am leaving,

but the fighter still remains

Lie – la – lie,

lie – la – lie – la – lie – la – lie

Lie – la – lie.

Lie – la – lie – la – lie – la – lie – la, la,la,la, lie.

Lie – la – lie,

lie – la – lie – la – lie – la – lie

Lie – la – lie.

Lie – la – lie – la – lie – la – lie – la, la,la,la, lie.