The Boxer Lyrics

The Boxer

I am just a poor boy.
Though my story's seldom told,
I have squandered my
resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles, Such are promises
All lies and
jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the
rest.

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,
Running scared,
Laying low,
Seeking out the poorer
quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places
Only they
would know

Lie la lie ...

Asking only workman's wages
I come
looking for a job,
But I get no offers,
Just a come-on from the
whores
On Seventh Avenue
I do declare,
There were times when I was so
lonesome
I took some comfort there.

Lie 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 bleeding me,
Leading me,
Going
home.

In the clearing stands a boxer,
And a fighter by his
trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that laid him
down
And 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..........