The Boxer Acordes

	  (ª casa) 

D                                                                                    G 
I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told. 
                A 
I have squandered my resistance, 
                                                         D 
For a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises. 
                  Bm 
All lies and jest. 
           A                       G                                                   D  A D 
Still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest. 

D                                                                                    G 
When I left my home and my family I was no more than a boy, 
            A 
In the company of strangers, 
                                                  D 
In the quiet of a railway station, runnin' scared. 
           Bm              A                       G 
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters, 
                                       D 
Where the ragged people go. 
            A                 G         A                D 
Lookin' for the places, only they would know. 

          Bm         A 
Lie-la-lie Lie-la-lie-la-la-la-lie 
          Bm         G                 A            D 
Lie-la-lie Lie-le-lie-la-lie-la-la-la-la-la-lie 

                                                          G             Bm 
Asking only workman's wages I come lookin' for a job, 
                   A 
But I get no offers, 
                                                                  D 
Just a come-on from the whores on Seventh Avenue. 
             Bm                  A                        G 
I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome, 
                                  D                     A 
I took some comfort there la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la 

D                                                                                  G 
Then I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone, 
           A                                                                   D 
Going home, where the New York City winters aren't bleedin' me. 
Bm            F#m         A       D 
Bleadin' me, to goin' home. 

D                                                                          G 
In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade, 
              A 
And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down, 
      D                                                               Bm 
Or cut him 'til he cried out in his anger and his shame, 
             A                G 
"I am leaving, I am leaving." 
                                  D     A D 
But the fighter still remains.