BOXER, THE

Simon & Garfunkel

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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 boyIn the company of strangers
In the quiet of a railway station
Running scaredLaying low
Seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places
Only they would know

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

Lie-la-lie…

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
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
But the fighter still remains

Lie-la-lie…