sexta-feira, 19 de novembro de 2010

I am just a poor boy

Though my story's seldom told

I have squandered my resistance

For a pocket full of mumblessuch are promises

All lies and jests

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

Lie la 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,

Now the years are rolling by me, they are -[rockin evenly]-

I am older than I once was

And younger than I'll be that's not unusual.

No it isnt strange after changes upon changes

We are more or less the same

After changes we are more or less the same

Lie la lie...
Then I'm laying out my winter clothes

And wishing I was gone

Going homeWhere the New York City winters

Aren't bleeding meleading 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 layed him down

Or cut him till he cried outIn his anger and his shame"I am leaving, I am leaving"

But the fighter still remains

Lie la lie...

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