Lyrics

  • I am just a poor boy
    Though my story's seldom told
    I have squandered my resistance
    For a pocketful of mumbles
    Such are ppromises
    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

    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
    Leading 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