The boxer

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

All lies and jest, 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 boy¹

In the company of strangers

In the quiet of the railway station, runnin’ scared, laying low,

Seeking out the poorer quarters, where the ragged people go²

Looking for the places only they would know

Lie la lie, lie la la la lie lie

Asking only workman’s wages, I come looking for a job³

But I get no offers⁹

Just a come-on⁷ from the whores on 7th Avenue

I do declare¹⁰, there were times when I was so lonesome

I took some comfort there

Now the years are rolling by me¹¹

They are rockin’ evenly

I am older than I once was

And younger than I’ll be; that’s not unusual⁴ ¹²

Nor is it strange⁸

After changes upon changes⁵

We are more or less the same

After changes we are more or less the same

And I’m laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone⁶

Goin’ home

Where the New York City winters aren’t bleedin’ me

Leadin’ me

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 or cut him

‘Til he cried out in his anger and his shame

I am leaving, I am leaving”, but the fighter still remains

PAUL SIMON and ART GARFUNKEL

Adaptado de genius.com.

Come-on⁷ is a verb transformed into a noun.

This noun has the following meaning: