The Boxer / Simon & Garfunkel
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
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All lies and jests
Still a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
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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
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Laying low
seeking out the poorer quarters
where the ragged people go
Looking for the places
only they would know
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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
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I do declare there were times
when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there
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And 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
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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
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