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I am just a poor boy
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Though my story is seldom told
|
I have squandered my resistance
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For a pocketful of mumbles,
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Such are promises,all lies, and jest
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Still, a man hears what he wants to hear
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And disregards the rest Mm mm....
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When I left my home and my family
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I was no more than a boy
|
In the company of strangers,
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In the quiet of a railway station
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Running scared, laying low,
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Seeking out the poorer quarters
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Where the ragged people go
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Looking for the places only they would know
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Lie-la-lie
|
|
Asking only workman's wages
|
I come looking for a job
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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
|
|
Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
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And wishing I was gone, going home
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Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me
|
Leading me, going home
|
In the clearing stands a boxer
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And a fighter by his trade
|
And he carries the reminders
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Of every glove that laid him down
|
Or cut him till he cried out
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In his anger and his shame
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I am leaving, I am leaving
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But the fighter still remains
|
|
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-----------------
|
The Boxer (Live)
|
| Simon and Garfunkel |
