The Boxer

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 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 Running scared Laying-low Seeking out the poorer quarters Where the ragged people go Looking for the places Only they would know La-la-la La-la-la-la-la-la-la La-la-la La-la-la-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la-la-la-la 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 La-la-la La-la-la-la-la-la-la La-la-la La-la-la-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la-la-la-la Then, I'm laying out my winter clothes And wishing I was gone Going home Where the New York City winters Aren't bleeding me Leading me (leading me) Going home Leading me (leading me) Going home Going home