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 in jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear, and disregards the rest



hmm hmm hmmm



When I left my home and my family, 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, lie la la-lie lie la-lie, lie-la lie, lie la la-lie lie la lie la-la la lie 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

la la la ...



lie la lie, lie la la-lie lie la-lie, lie-la lie, lie la la-lie lie la lie la-la la lie lie.



And I am 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 shame, I am leaving, I am leaving,

But the fighter still remains hmm hmm hmm



lie la lie, lie la la-lie lie la-lie, lie-la lie, lie la la-lie lie la lie la-la la lie lie.