The Boxer (Live) - Simon & Garfunkel

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 Lie la lie ...

I wanna welcome Gibson Jerry Douglas to join me on this song A poor boy, his story's seldom told Squandered his resistance For a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises All lies and jest Still, a man hears what he wants to hear 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, 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 Lie-la-la-la-la-la-lie (Lie-la-lie) (Lie-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-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 That there were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there Ooh-la-la-la-la-la-la Lie-la-lie Lie-la-la-la-la-la-lie Lie-la-lie Lie-la-la-la-la-lie Lie-la-lie Lie-la-la-la-la-la-lie Lie-la-lie Lie-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lie Mmm Then I'm laying out my winter clothes 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 A fighter by his trade And he carries the remainders Of every glove that laid him down And cut him 'til he cried out In his anger and his shame "Well, I am leaving, I am leaving" But the fighter still remains And he still remains Lie-la-lie Lie-la-la-la-la-la-lie Lie-la-lie Lie-la-la-la-la-la-lie Lie-la-lie Lie-la-la-la-la-la-lie Lie-la-lie Lie-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lie Lie-la-lie Lie-la-la-la-la-la-lie Lie-la-lie Lie-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lie We have a lot of friends out here tonight A lot of friends out there No, I was reffering to a few people over here

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, 'til 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, layin' low, seeking out the poor quarters Where the ragged people go looking for the places Only they would know Li la li Li la li, li li li li Li la li Li la li, li li li li Li la li 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-bleeding me, bleeding me Going home Da da da da da Da da da da da da da da Da da da da da da da 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 'Til he cried out in his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving but the fighter still remains" Li la li Li la li, li li li li Li la li Li la li, li li li li Li la li

Why don't we stop foolin' ourselves? The game is over, over, over No good times, no bad times There's no times at all Just The New York Times Sittin' on the windowsill Near the flowers We might as well be apart It hardly matters, we sleep separately And drop a smile passin' in the hall But there's no laughs left 'Cause we laughed them all And we laughed them all In a very short time Time is tapping on my forehead Hangin' from my mirror Rattlin' the teacups And I wonder- How long can I delay? We're just a habit, like saccharin And I'm habitually feelin' kinda blue But each time I try on the thought of leavin' you I stop I stop and think it over

Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit Blessed is the lamb whose blood flows Blessed are the sat upon, spat upon, ratted on Oh, Lord, why have you forsaken me? I got no place to go I've walked around Soho for the last night or so Ah, but it doesn't matter, no Blessed is the land and the kingdom Blessed is the man whose soul belongs to Blessed are the meth drinkers, pot sellers, illusion dwellers Oh, Lord, why have you forsaken me? My words trickle down From a wound that I have no intention to heal Blessed are the stained glass, window pane glass Blessed is the church service, makes me nervous Blessed are the penny rookers, cheap hookers, groovy lookers Oh, Lord, why have you forsaken me? I, I have tended my own garden much too long

Lena's been burning both ends of her candle She's over her head in complication and scandal But Lena takes her troubles in stride As she runs to the bottle To confess and confide Lena surrenders Lena has taken to flaunting her passions Offers herself in the boldest of fashion But Lena says it's under control As she looks to the bottle To calm and console Lena surrenders Lena Surely you don't believe By hiding in bottles you'll never relieve All the pain love has brought you The fire and the cold Lena Take heart Take heart Lena Surely you don't believe By hiding in bottles you'll never relieve All the pain love has brought you The fire and the cold Lena Take heart Take heart Take heart Take heart Lena! Lena! Take heart Lena! Lena

Old friends, old friends Sat on their park bench like bookends A newspaper blown through the grass Falls on the round toes Of the high shoes of the old friends Old friends, winter companions, the old men Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset The sounds of the city sifting through trees Settle like dust on the shoulders of the old friends Can you imagine us years from today Sharing a park bench quietly? How terribly strange to be 70 Old friends, memory brushes the same years Silently sharing the same fears