The Boxer - Live at Central Park, New York, NY - August 15, 1991

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, hmmm

When I left my home and my family, I's 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
Li la li
Li la li
Li la li

Asking only workman's wages, I come lookin' for a job
But I get no offers
Just a come-on from the whores on 7th Avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there

La la la
Li la li
Li la li
Li la li
Li la li
Li la li

Li la li
Li la li
Li la li
Li la li
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
Instrumental

And I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone
Goin' home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleedin' me, leadin' me
Goin' 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
Still remains

Li la li
Li la li
Li la li
Li la li
Li la li

Li la li
Li la li
Li la li
Li la li