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
 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
 La-la-la
 La-la-la-la-la-la-la
 La-la-la
 La-la-la-la-la-la-la
 La-la-la-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 7th Avenue
 I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
 I took some comfort there
 La-la-la
 La-la-la-la-la-la-la
 La-la-la
 La-la-la-la-la-la-la
 La-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 (leading me)
 Going home
 Leading me (leading me)
 Going home
 Going home