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作曲 : P. Simon |
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作词 : P. Simon |
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I am just a poor boy. |
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Though my story's seldom told, |
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I have squandered my resistance |
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For a pocketful of mumbles, |
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Such are promises |
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All lies and jest |
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Still, a man hears what he wants to hear |
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And disregards the rest. |
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When I left my home |
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And my family, |
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I was no more than a boy |
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In the company of strangers |
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In the quiet of the railway station, |
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Running scared, |
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Laying low, |
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Seeking out the poorer quarters |
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Where the ragged people go, |
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Looking for the places |
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Only they would know. |
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|
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Asking only workman's wages |
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I come looking for a job, |
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But I get no offers. |
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Just a come-on from the whores |
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On Seventh Avenue |
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I do declare, |
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There were times when I was so lonesome |
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I took some comfort there. |
| [03:18.13][02:10.41] |
|
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Then I'm laying out my winter clothes |
| [02:28.81] |
And wishing I was gone |
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Going home |
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Where the New York City winters |
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Aren't bleeding me, |
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Leading me, |
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Going home. |
| [02:50.02] |
In the clearing stands a boxer, |
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And a fighter by his trade |
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And he carries the reminders |
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Of ev'ry glove that laid him down |
| [03:03.27] |
Or cut him till he cried out |
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In his anger and his shame, |
| [03:07.94] |
"I am leaving, I am leaving." |
| [03:10.61] |
But the fighter still remains |
