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 jest,still a man hears
what he wants to hear 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 a railway station
running scared Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking forthe places only they would know
Lie la lie Lie la lie la lie la lie Lie la lie lie la lie
la la la la lie la la la la
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 Ave
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome I took
some comfort there ooh la la la la la la
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
Or 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 lie la lie la lie la lie Lie la lie
lie la lie la la la la lie la la la la lie
Repeat lie la lie etc but end on fading