By Paul Simon
I'm just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told
I have squadered my resistance
For a pocketful of numbles
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 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.
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.
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
And cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
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 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
[ steel ]
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 some times when I was so lonesome
And I took some comfort there
[ guitar - steel ]
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
(Paul Simon)
I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my existence
On a pocket full of mumbles such are promises
All lies in jest, till a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
Well 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 runnin' scared
Layin' low seeking out the poor quarters
Where the ragged people go, looking for the places
Only they would know
Li Li Li [etc.]
Only seeking 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
In a-laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was home
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren't a-bleding me
Bleeding me
Going home
Da Da Da [etc.]
In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every bloke that laid him down or cleft him
Till he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving
But the fighter still remains
(Paul Simon)
I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my existence
On a pocket full of mumbles such are promises
All lies in jest, till a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest
Well 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 runnin' scared
Layin' low seeking out the poor quarters
Where the ragged people go, looking for the places
Only they would know
Li Li Li [etc.]
Only seeking 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
In a-laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was home
Going home
Where the New York City winters aren't a-bleding me
Bleeding me
Going home
Da Da Da [etc.]
In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of every bloke that laid him down or cleft him
Till he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving
But the fighter still remains
Li Li Li [etc.]
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 (hmmmm... mmmm...)
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, runnin' scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters, where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know
(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(La la la la li...)
Seeking 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 (li la la, la, la la)
Now the years are rolling by me, they are rockin' even me
I am older than I once was, and younger than I'll be, that's not unusual
No it isn't strange, after changes upon changes, we are more or less the same
After changes we are more or less the same ...
(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(La la la la li...)
And I'm laying out my winter clothes, wishing I was gone, goin' home
Where the New York city winters aren't bleedin' me, leadin' me to go home
In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down or cut him
'Til he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains
Yes, he still remains ...
(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(La la la la li...)
(Li la la la li la li)
(Li la li... li la la la li la li)
(La la la la li...)
(Li la la la li la li)
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 the man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards 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
Looking for the places only they would know
La la li
La la la la li la li
La la li
La la la la la la li la la la li
Asking only workman's wages I come looking for a job
But I get no offers
Just a come-on from some bitch
On Seventh Avenue
I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there, la la la la la la
[repeat chorus]
And 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
'til he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving
But the fighter still remains
La la la la la la la la la li
[repeat chorus twice]
I am just a poor boy
though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my existence 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
mh -- mh.
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
wet and 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 comeon from the whores on Seventh Avenue.
I do declare
there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there
oh 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
mh -- mh.
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 an his shame:
I am leaving, I am leaving!
but the fighter still remains
When you said this was a fight
You weren't kidding
When you said this was a fight
You weren't kidding, kidding
'Cuz my ribs are bruised
And it's just round two
When you said this was a fight
You weren't kidding
When you said this was a fight
You were not kidding
'Cuz there's a cut on my eye
And it's just round five
And I used to be quick
I used to see you coming
I used to know how to move my feet
Now I can't duck
And I can't land nothin'
And I forgot how to bob and weave
Bob and weave
When you said this was a fight
You weren't kidding
When you said this was a fight
You weren't kidding, kidding, kidding
'Cuz this room's in a spin
And it's just round ten
If you care at all
Take that towel from your neck
'Cuz I've reached down deep
And there is nothing left
I've got nothing
I've got nothing
I've got nothing
And I was talkin' big
I was talkin'
But now, now what?
Greater is He who is in me
Greater is He who is in me
Okay, okay, okay
Greater is He who is in me
Greater is He who is in me
Greater, greater, okay
Bob and weave (x12)
And I can't just know it
I've got to feel it
And I can't just feel it
I've got to believe it
And I can't just believe it
I've got to live it
And I can't just live it
(You've got, you've got to believe it)
I can't seem to shake this feeling
I can't seem to put it down
I can't seem to shake this feeling
I can't seem to put it down down down down
But I must remember
I'm a hustler
I'm a full moon
I'm a tiger sleeping in your
I can't seem to shake this feeling
I can't seem to put it down
I can't seem to shake this feeling
I can't seem to put it down down down down
Down down down down
Down down down down down
But I must remember
I'm a hustler
I'm a full moon
I'm a tiger sleeping in your
Ahh ahh ahh
Ahh ahh ahh
Ahh ahh ahh
Ahh ahh ahh
Would you call him
And tell him how I feel
I can make the payment
I can make the deal
I should call him
And tell him how I feel
I can make the payment
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 ppromises
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.
CHORUS
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.
CHORUS
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 ev'ry 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
CHORUS
You gotta move in !
Suppose that what you drink…
Deep or not at all…
What on earth are you,
Are you going to do…
Live a leisured life
Move into the ball !
Move into the ball !
And not away from it !
A week or so after the crocuses appeared you began to grow your beard
Aiming for King Kong Lear
Take it to the zoo
Sure you are wholehearted !
You gotta move in !
A bruised full moon play fights with the stars
This place is our prison, its cells are the bars
So take me to town, I wanna dance with the city
Show me something ugly and show me something pretty
Damn, this place makes a boy out of me
The ring meets my face by the count of three
An unwanted sun pulls rank in the sky
The boxer isn't finished, he's not ready to die
I'm attracted to the light, I'm attracted to the heat
It's a violent night, there are boxers in the street
Damn, this place makes a boy out of me
The ring meets my face by the count of three
And damn this place makes a boy out of me
The ring meets my face, I'm a fallen oak tree
Dazed in the final count, dazed in the final count
I am just a poor boy
Though my story seldom told
I squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles such 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 stations running scared
Laying low seeking out the poor quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places
Only they would know
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
Then I'm laying down my winter clothes
And wishing I was home going home
Where the New York City winters
Are bleeding me, bleeding me going home
In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his
trade
And he carries the reminder of every glove that laid
him down
And cut him till he cried out in his anger and his
shame
Couldn't ask for a better day, two by two
To the ring to the right point of view
Each retreat to the corner that's defined by you
To the ring to the right point of
Lonely Reign
She is the Boxer, she knows
When and where to strike
He is the Boxer, he knows
No peaceful sleep tonight
Caught the downfall of Pete and May, Ryan too
He did not approve of Rayleigh's mood
Doctor Mike was 'fight or flight' at Dun drum School
To the right to the right point of
No return, no passion left to burn
The Boxers grow weary
Their eyesight, blurry view
Lonely Reign
She is the Boxer, she knows
When and where to strike
He is the Boxer, he knows
No peaceful sleep tonight
All's quiet on the front, Smokey room
Boxer standing tall, peering through
Finding no one left to fight, what to do?
To the ring to the right point of view
Lonely Reign
She is the Boxer, she knows
When and where to strike
He is the Boxer, he knows
No peaceful sleep tonight
Lonely Reign
Lonely Reign
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, hmmmm
When I left my home and my family, I's no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station, runnin' scared, laying low,
Seeking out the poorer quarters, where the ragged people go,
Looking for the places only they would know.
Li la li...
Asking only workman's wages, I come lookin' 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...
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
Li la li...
And I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone,
goin' home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleedin' me, leadin' me,
goin' 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
'Til he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains.
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 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 for the places only they would know.
Lie-la-lie ...
Asking only workman's wages I came looking for a job,
but I get no offers, just a comeon from the whores of Seventh Avenue
I do declare there were times when I was so lonsome
I took some comfort there...
Lie-la-lie ...
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 the boxer and a fighter by his trade,
and he carries the reminders of ev'ry glove that laid him down
and cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame:
“I am leaving, I am leaving!” but the fighter still remains.
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 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
Lie la lie ...
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
Bleeding 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 out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
I am just a poor boy.
Though my story's seldom told,
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles,
Such are ppromises
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.
CHORUS
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.
CHORUS
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 ev'ry 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
CHORUS
I am just a poor boy
Though my story 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
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
Ooh la la la la la la
Lie-la-lie...
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
Lie-la-lie...
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 'til he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
Lie-la-lie...
The Boxer
Paul Simon
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 in 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
Runnin' scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Lookin' for the places only they would know
Well lie-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie lie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie lie-la-lie
Lie-la-la-la-lie
Asking 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
And I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Goin' home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleedin' me
Leadin' me, goin' home
Well lie-la-la-la-la-lie
Lie-lie-la-la
La-la-la-lie
La-la-la-la
[Instrumental]
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 'til he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
Well lie-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie, la-la-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie, la-la-lie
Lie-la-la-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie, la-la-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie, la-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie, la-la-lie
Lie-la-lie
Lie-la-la-lie, la-la-lie
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 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
Lie la lie ...
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 ev'ry glove that layed 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
I am just a poor boy.
Though my story's seldom told,
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles,
Such are ppromises
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.
CHORUS
Lie-la-lie...
Asking only workman's wages
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.
CHORUS
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 ev'ry glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame,
I am leaving, I am leaving.
Li la li...
I am just a poor boy and my storys seldom told
Ive squandered my resistance for a pocketful of
mumbles, such are promises
All lies and jest, still the man hears what he wants to
hear
And disregards the rest, hmmmm
When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station, runnin scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters, where the
ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know
Li la li...
Now the years are rolling by me, they are rockin even
I am older than I once was, and younger than Ill be,
thats 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
Li la li...
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
til he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still
remains
I am leaving, but the fighter still remains
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 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
Lie la lie ...
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
Bleeding 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 out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
