The Boxer

I am just a poor boy
Though my story is 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
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
runninscared
Layinlow seekin
out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Lookinfor the places
only they would know
la...
Asking only workmans wages
I come lookinfor 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
La...
la...
And Im layinout my winter clothes
And wishinI was gone goinhome
Where the New York City
winters arent bleedinme
Leadinme home goinhome
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 til he cried out
In his anger and his shame
I am leavinI am leavin
But the fighter still remains
still remains
la...