Letra de The Boxer
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
All lies and jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear
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 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
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie, la la la lie
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, ooh lalalalalala
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie, la la la lie
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
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
'Til he cried out in his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving", but the fighter still remains
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie, la la la lie
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
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie, la la la lie
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, ooh lalalalalala
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie, la la la lie
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
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
'Til he cried out in his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving", but the fighter still remains
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie
Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie, la la la lie
