Simon & Garfunkel - The Boxer
The Boxer
I am just a poor boy
Though my story is 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 boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of a railway station
Running scared, laying low,
Seeking out the poorer 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 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 till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving
But the fighter still remains
