The Boxer

I am just a poor boy

  • I am just a poor boy
  • Though my story seldom told
  • I squandered my resistance
  • For a pocket full 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 running scared
  • Laying low seeking out the poor quarters
  • Where the ragged people go
  • Looking for the places
  • Only they would know
  • 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
  • Then I'm laying down my winter clothes
  • And wishing I was home going home
  • Where the New York City winters
  • Are bleeding me bleeding 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
  • And cut him till he cried out
  • In his anger and his shame
  • I am leaving I am leaving
  • But the fighter still remains
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2022-4-5 22:37 OPPOCPH2239

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