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 the railway station, Running scared, Laying low, Seeking out the poorer quarters Where the ragged people go, Looking for the places Only they would know.
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