The Boxer Lyrics

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.

When I left my home and family I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers, in the quiet of a 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 came looking for a job,
But I get no offers, just a comeon from the whores of Seventh Avenue
I do declare there were times when I was so lonsome
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 the 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