The Boxer

I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I've squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles, such are promises

All lies and jest
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
Disregards the rest

When I left my home and family
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
The quiet of the railway station running scared

Lying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Lie-la-lie, lie-lie-lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie, lie-lie-lie-la-lie
Lie-lie-lie

Seeking only workman's wages
I've come looking for a job
But I get no offers
Just a come-on from the whores on Wall Street

I do declare
There were times when I was so lonesome
Took some comfort there

Lie-la-lie, lie-lie-lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie, lie-lie-lie-la-lie
Lie-lie-lie

Down I'm laying out my winter clothes
Wishing I was gone, going home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me
Leading me, going home

Lie-la-lie, lie-lie-lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie, lie-lie-lie-la-lie
Lie-lie-lie
In the clearing stands a boxer
A fighter by her trade
And she carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid her low or cut her

'Til she cried out in her anger and her shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
Yet the fighter still remains

Lie-la-lie, lie-lie-lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie, lie-lie-lie-la-lie
Lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie, lie-lie-lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie, lie-lie-lie-la-lie
Lie-lie-lie



Credits
Writer(s): Edmund John Simons, Timothy Allan Burgess, Thomas Owen Mostyn Rowlands
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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