The Boxer
I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles such a promises
All lies and jest 'till a man heres what he wants to here
And disregards the rest, mm mm mm......
When I left my home and my family
I was no more than a boy in the company of strangers
In the quiet down 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
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 Ooo...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 ain't bleeding me,
Bleeding me going home
In the clearing stands the boxer and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that laid him down
And cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains, mm mm mm mm
La lie la la la la la la la la la la la la
(
geocities.com/tomdenver_2000)