The Boxer - Paul Simon & Art Garfunkel

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 boy,
In the company of strangers,
In the quiet of a railway station, runnin’ scared.
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters,
Where the ragged people go.
Lookin’ for the places, only they would know.

Lie-la-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 seventh avenue.
I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome,
I took some comfort there.
Oooh la, la, la ...

And the years are rollin’ by me.
They are rockin’ evenly.
I am older than I once was, and younger than I’ll be.
That’s not unusual.
It isn’t strange,
After changes upon changes, we are more or less the same.
After changes, we are more or less the same.

Lie-la-lie ...

Then I’m laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone,
Going home, where the new york city winters aren’t bleedin’ me.
Leadin’ me, to 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.
Lie-la-lie ...

O lutador

Eu sou apenas um pobre rapaz, embora a minha história seja raramente contada 

Minha resistência se esgotou 

Por um bolso cheio de sonhos, como promessas 

Todas  de mentira e gozação 

Um homem ainda escuta o que ele quer ouvir e fica desatento ao resto 

Quando eu deixei minha casa e minha família, eu não era mais do que um guri 

Na companhia de estranhos 

No silêncio de uma estação ferroviária, correndo assustado 

Dormindo à toa, procurando pelos mais baratos dormitórios 

Onde as piores pessoas pisavam 

Procurando pelos lugares que somente eles conheciam 

LIE-LA-LIE ... 

Querendo apenas ganhar a vida eu vim procurar um bico 

Mas eu não conseguí nada 

Além de um mulheril na sétima avenida  

Eu realmente confesso que houve momentos que eu estava tão solitário 

Que tive algum conforto por lá 

OOOH LA, LA, LA ... 

Agora que os anos estão passando por mim, 

eles estão passando uniformemente 

E eu estou mais velho do eu era antes, mais jovem do que eu serei, 

Isso não é tão extraordinário assim 

Embora isso não seja estranho, 

depois de mudanças sobre mudanças 

Nós somos mais ou menos o mesmo 

Após mudanças nós somos mais ou menos o mesmo 

LI LA LI ... 

E eu estou tentando vender as minhas roupas de inverno 

No intuito de voltar pra casa 

Onde os invernos da cidade de Nova York não estejam me sagrando 

Conduzindo-me de volta para casa 

Na clareira mora um lutador, e é um lutador por ofício 

E ele carrega as lembranças de cada luva 

Que o derrubaram 

Ou lhe feriram até que ele gritou na sua íra e em sua vergonha? 

Eu estou desistindo, eu estou jogando a toalha? 

Mas o lutador ainda permanece.  

LIE-LA-LIE... 

C                                                Am 

I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told 

           G 

I have squandered my resistance  

                      C 

For a pocketful of mumbles such are promises 

             Am            G                  F 

All lies and jest still a man hears what he wants to hear  

                    C      G    C 

And disregards the rest 

                                                     Am 

When I left my home and family I was no more than a boy 

         G 

In the company of strangers 

        Dm7        C 

In the quiet of a railway station running scared 

       Am           G                F 

Laying low seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go 

         G              F    Em   Dm    C 

Looking for the places only they would know 

        Am 

Lie-la-lie 

        G 

Lie-la-lie la lie-la-lie 

        Am 

Lie la lie 

G                       F           G   C 

Lie-la-lie la la la la lie la la la la lie 

                                                 Am 

Asking only workmans wages I come looking for a job 

                G 

But I get no offers 

         Dm7              C 

Just a come-on from the whores on seventh avenue 

        Am                 Dm7     G     F                                 C 

I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there 

        G               C 

Ooo-la-la la la la la 

        Am 

Lie-la-lie 

        G 

Lie-la-lie la lie-la-lie 

        Am 

Lie la lie 

G                       F           G   C 

Lie-la-lie la la la la lie la la la la lie 

C 

Then I'm laying out my winter clothes 

G7  C              Am 

And wishing I was gone  

       G             Dm7      G7               G  C 

Going home where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me 

            Am 

Leading me 

        G 

Going Home 

       C                                            Am 

In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade 

          G 

And he carries the reminders  

    G7               C                        Dm7     G7        C 

Of ev'ry glove that laid him down or cut him 'till he cried out 

                        Am 

In his anger and his shame 

        G              F                              C 

"I am Leaving, I am Leaving."  But the Fighter still remains 

G C  G      F      C 

        Am 

Lie-la-lie 

        G 

Lie-la-lie la lie-la-lie 

        Am 

Lie la lie 

 G                        F             Am 

Lie-la-lie la la la la lie la la la la lie 

Repeat & Fade