The Boxer

 The boxer - Simon and Garfunkel 

 I am just a poor boy 

 Though my story's seldom told 

 I have 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 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 

 Bleeding me, going home 

 In the clearing stands a boxer 

 And a fighter by his trade 

 And he carries the reminders 

 Of ev'ry 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