Intro:
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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.
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All lies and jest. Still a man hears what he wants
to hear and disregards the rest. Mmm
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, runnin' scared.
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Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters, Where
the ragged people go.
Lookin' for the places, only they would know.
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Lie-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.
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I do declare there were times when I was so
lonesome,I took some comfort there.
Oooh la, la, la ...
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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.
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Leadin' me, to 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,
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Or 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 ...
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