The Boxer

Well, I am just a poor boy
 Though my story seldom told
 I have squandered my resistance
 For a pocket full of mumbles such as 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
 Looking for the places only they would know
 Lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie, Lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-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 7th 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 bleeding me
 Leading me, going home
 Lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie-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
 Oh, lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie, Lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie, Lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie
 Lie-lie-lie, Lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie