Though my story's seldom toldI have squandered my resistanceFor a pocketful of mumblesSuch are promisesAll lies and jestStill a man hears what he wants to hearAnd disregards the rest
When I left my home and my familyI was no more than a boyIn the company of strangersIn the quiet of the railway stationRunning scaredLaying low, seeking out the poorer quartersWhere the ragged people goLooking for the places only they would know
Lie-la-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Asking only workman's wages, I come looking for a jobBut I get no offersJust a come-on from the whores on 7th AvenueI do declare, there were times when I was so lonesomeI took some comfort there, la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Lie-la-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Then I'm laying out my winter clothesAnd wishing I was gone, going homeWhere the New York City winters aren't bleeding meLeading me, going home
In the clearing stands a boxerAnd a fighter by his tradeAnd he carries the remindersOf every glove that laid him downOr cut him till he cried outIn his anger and his shame"I am leaving, I am leaving"But the fighter still remains
Lie-la-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lie
Lie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lieLie-la-lieLie-la-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie-lie-lie
I love you
