Name: The Boxer
Duration: 4 min 31 s
Channel: Paul Simon
Description: "The Boxer" is a song by Mark Hermann. Written by Paul Simon. Recorded Live at Borders Books in Brea, California - 11/12/05

The Boxer

Mark Hermann

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Written by Paul Simon. Recorded Live at Borders Books in Brea, California - 11/12/05

acoustic music folk california folk rock county string mellow mark orange linda 12 troubador balladeer yorba hermann

Mark Hermann

Mostly 12 string guitar and vocals. A longtime folk singer performing the act that's kept him out of the bigtime for years.

I began my musical career in the 70's, playing trumpet and guitar, and singing. This site contains mostly that act, which has kept me out of the big time all these years. I played full-time professionally for eight years, until I realized I preferred my meals .... you know, .... daily.

Song Info

Genre

Acoustic • Cover Songs

Peak in subgenre #32

Author

Paul Simon

Uploaded

November 17, 2005

Track Files

MP3

MP3 4.1 MB • 128 kbps • 4:31

Story behind the song

I am just a poor boy, 
though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumble.
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 boy
In the company of strangers,
In the quiet of the railway station 
Runnin' scared.
Layin' low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go.
Lookin' for the places only they would know.

Lie, Lie, Lie.

Asking only workman's wages
I come lookin' for a job,
But I get no offers.
Just a, "Come-on," from the whores on 7th Avenue.
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there.

 Optional (Not in all performances.)
Now the years are rollin' by me, 
they are rockin' evenly
And I'm older than I once was, 
younger than I'll be, that's not unusual.
Though it isn't strange, 
after changes upon changes
We are more or less the same, 
after changes we are more or less the same.


So, I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishin' I was gone, goin' home.
Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me, leading 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!"