The Boxer feat. Mumford & Sons and Paul Simon

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...