"The Boxer" dari Mumford & Sons adalah lagu yang menyayat hati yang mengeksplorasi tema kesepian, penyesalan, dan pencarian makna dalam kehidupan. Dengan liriknya yang puitis dan musiknya yang menghantui, lagu ini menceritakan kisah seorang pria muda yang meninggalkan rumah dan keluarganya untuk mencari kekayaannya di kota besar. Namun, alih-alih menemukan kesuksesan, ia malah terperosok dalam siklus kemiskinan dan kesepian, memaksanya mengandalkan belas kasihan orang asing dan mencari penghiburan di tempat-tempat yang tersembunyi.
The Boxer Lyrics
Mumford & Sons
I am just a poor boy
Though my story seldom told
I squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles such are promises
All lies and jests
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 stations running scared
Laying low seeking out the poor quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places
Only they would know
Asking only workman's wages
I come looking 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
Then I'm laying down my winter clothes
And wishing I was home going home
Where the New York City winters
Are bleeding me, bleeding me going home
In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down
And cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving I am leaving but the fighter still remains
Though my story seldom told
I squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles such are promises
All lies and jests
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 stations running scared
Laying low seeking out the poor quarters
Where the ragged people go
Looking for the places
Only they would know
Asking only workman's wages
I come looking 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
Then I'm laying down my winter clothes
And wishing I was home going home
Where the New York City winters
Are bleeding me, bleeding me going home
In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down
And cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving I am leaving but the fighter still remains