The Boxer - Paul Simon 
    I'm 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 disregard the rest.

    When i left my home and 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
    Lookin for the places
    Only they would know.

    Askin only workman's wages
    I come lookin 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 on
    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
    And cut him till he cried out
    In his anger and his shame
    "I'm leaving, i am leaving"
    But the fighter still remains


    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words