The Boxer
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 in jest
Still the 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 stations
Running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Lookin' for the places only they would know
Well lie-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie 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
And I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was home
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleedin' me
Leading me, going home
Well lie-la-la-la-la-lie...
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
And cut him 'til he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
Well lie-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie, la-la-lie...
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles
Such are promises
All lies in jest
Still the 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 stations
Running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Lookin' for the places only they would know
Well lie-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie 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
And I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was home
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleedin' me
Leading me, going home
Well lie-la-la-la-la-lie...
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every glove that laid him down
And cut him 'til he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
Well lie-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie, la-la-lie...
Credits
Writer(s): Edmund John Simons, Timothy Allan Burgess, Thomas Owen Mostyn Rowlands
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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