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| :I am just a poor boy and my storys seldom told
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| :I've squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises
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| :All lies and jest, still the man hears what he wants to hear
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| :And disregards the rest, hmmmm
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| :-
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| :When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a boy
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| :In the company of strangers
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| :In the quiet of the railway station, runnin scared
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| :Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters, where the ragged people go
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| :Looking for the places only they would know
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| :-
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| :Li la li...
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| :-
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| :Asking only workmans wages, I come lookin for a job, but I get no offers
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| :Just a comeon from the whores on 7th avenue
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| :I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
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| :I took some comfort there
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| :-
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| :Now the years are rolling by me, they are rockin even me
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| :I am older than I once was, and younger than Ill be, thats not unusual
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| :No it isnt strange, after changes upon changes, we are more or less the same
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| :After changes we are more or less the same
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| :-
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| :Li la li...
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| :-
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| :And Im laying out my winter clothes, wishing I was gone, goin home
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| :Where the new york city winters arent bleedin me, leadin me to go home
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| :-
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| :In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade
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| :And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him
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| :til he cried out in his anger and his shame
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| :I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains
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| :Yes he still remains
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| :-
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| :Li la li...
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| :-
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