The Boxer

I am just a poor boy and my story's seldom told

I've squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises

All lies and jest, still the 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



Li la li...



Asking only workman's wages, i come lookin' for a job, but i get no offers

Just a comeon from the whores on 7th avenue

I do declare, there were times when i was so lonesome

I took some comfort there



Now the years are rolling by me, they are rockin' even me

I am older than i once was, and younger than i'll be, that's not unusual

No it isn't strange, after changes upon changes, we are more or less the same

After changes we are more or less the same



Li la li...



And i'm laying out my winter clothes, wishing i was gone, goin' home

Where the new york city winters aren't bleedin' me, leadin' me to go 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

'til he cried out in his anger and his shame

I am leaving, i am leaving, but the fighter still remains

Yes he still remains



Li la li...


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