Li La Li

I'm sitting here in a cozy cafe and with the decorations and the smiles and the lights and the cold outside so far away, you know it's starting to feel like the holidays. I've always loved the holidays even though I didn't celebrate them, I liked all the elements and smells and lights and the attitude.

This song's been rattling around in my cage for a while.

I am just a poor boy and my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full 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 running scared
Laying low seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they will know.

And I'm laying out my winter clothes wishing I was gone going home
Where the New York City winters aren't bleeding me, leading me to go home.

In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the remainders of ever glove that laid him down or
Cut him
Till he cried out in his anger and his pain
I am leaving I am leavin but the fighter still remains.

Yes he still remains.