Текст песни The Boxer - Mumford & Sons

I′m 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 jests
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 stations
Runnin′ scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Well lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie, lie-lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie, lie-lie-la-lie
La-la-la-la-lie

Asking only workman's wages
I come lookin' for a job
But I get no offers
Just a c′mon 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 gone
Goin' home
Where the New York City winters aren′t bleedin' me
Leading me

Going home

Well la-la

La-la-la-la
La-la-la-la
La-la-la-la
La-la-la-lie

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminder
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-lie, lie-la-la-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-la, lie-la-lie
La-la-la-la-lie
Lie-la-lie, lie-la-la-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-la, lie-la-lie
La-la-la-la-lie
Lie-la-lie, lie-la-la-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-la, lie-la-lie
La-la-la-la-lie