The Boxer
The Struggles of a Wanderer: Unveiling Life's Trials and Yearnings
Lyrics
I am just a poor boy.
I acknowledge that I am economically disadvantaged.
Though my story's seldom told,
Although my life story is rarely shared,
I have squandered my resistance
I have wasted my ability to resist challenges
For a pocketful of mumbles,
In exchange for meaningless, unclear speech,
Such are promises
These promises are often deceptive
All lies and jest
All are lies and jokes,
Still, a man hears what he wants to hear
Still, people tend to hear what they want and ignore the rest.
And disregards the rest.
This behavior is common among men.
When I left my home
When I departed from my home,
And my family,
Leaving behind my family,
I was no more than a boy
I was just a young boy
In the company of strangers
In the company of strangers,
In the quiet of the railway station,
At the quiet railway station,
Running scared,
Fearful and anxious,
Laying low,
Keeping a low profile,
Seeking out the poorer quarters
Exploring the impoverished neighborhoods
Where the ragged people go,
Where destitute people reside,
Looking for the places
Searching for places
Only they would know.
Known only to them.
Lie-la-lie...
Repeating a melodic refrain...
Asking only workman's wages
Requesting only a working-class wage,
I come looking for a job,
I am searching for employment,
But I get no offers.
But I receive no job offers.
Just a come-on from the whores
Only tempting propositions from prostitutes
On Seventh Avenue
On Seventh Avenue.
I do declare,
I must emphasize,
There were times when I was so lonesome
There were moments of intense loneliness
I took some comfort there.
Where I found solace there.
Lie-la-lie...
Repeating a melodic refrain...
Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
Then, organizing my winter clothing
And wishing I was gone
And yearning to leave
Going home
Returning home,
Where the New York City winters
Where the harsh New York City winters
Aren't bleeding me,
Are not draining me,
Leading me,
Guiding me,
Going home.
Heading home.
In the clearing stands a boxer,
In a clear space stands a boxer,
And a fighter by his trade
A professional fighter by occupation,
And he carries the reminders
And he carries the memories
Of every glove that laid him down
Of every defeat he faced
Or cut him till he cried out
Or every time he was wounded
In his anger and his shame,
Resulting in his anger and shame,
I am leaving, I am leaving.
Declaring his departure, he leaves.
But the fighter still remains
But the fighter endures despite it all.
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