The Boxer (Live)

Well, 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
(Hmm, mmmm)

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, runnin' scared

Laying low
Seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Lalala, lalala-lala-lala
Lalala, lalala-la-lala-la-lalala-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 (lalala, la, lalala)

Lalala, lalala-lala-lala
Lalala, lalala-la-lala-la-lalala-la
Lalala, lalala-la-lala-la-lalala-la-lalala-lalala-la

And I'm laying out my winter clothes
Wishing I was gone, goin' home
Where the New York city winters aren't bleedin' me
Leadin' me going home

In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminder
Of every glove that laid him down or cut him 'til he cried out
In his anger and his shame
Well I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains
Yes, he still remains

Lalala, lalala-lala-lala
Lalala, lalala-la-lala-la-lalala-la
Lalala, lalala-la-lala-la-lalala-la-lalala-lalala-la
Lalala-la-lala-la-lalala-la-lalala-lalala-la-lalala-la