The Boxer

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

Lie 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.

Lie la lie

Now the years are rolling by me,
They're rockin' evenly,
I am older than I once was
and younger than I'll be that's not unusual.
no it isn't strange after changes upon changes we are more or less the same
after changes we are more or less the same

Lie la lie

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
And cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame,
"I am leaving, I am leaving."
But the fighter still remains

Lie la lie   



SIMON AND GARFUNKEL '' THE CONCERT IN CENTRAL PARK NEW YORK ''

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