"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
"Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know"
"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 every glove that laid 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"