paroles de chanson The Boxer - Chris Ayer , Matt Simons

I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful full of mumbles
Such are promises

All lies and jest
Still, a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest, hmm

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

Lying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-la-lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-la-lie-la-lie, la-la-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
When I lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie

Lie-la-lie
Lie-la lie-la-lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-la-lie-la-lie, la-la-lie-la-lie

Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone, going home
Where the New York City winters are not bleeding me
Leading me
Going 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"
Though the fighter still remains, still remains

Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-la-lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-la-lie-la-lie, la-la-lie-la-lie

Lie-la-lie-la-lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-la-lie-la-lie, la-la-lie-la-lie