Archive:The Boxer

I am just a poor boy and my storys seldom told Ive 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 workmans 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 Ill be, thats not unusual No it isnt 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 Im laying out my winter clothes, wishing I was gone, goin home Where the new york city winters arent 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...