Bronx Flyweight Lyrics

He held still in the bulbs of light

As the shutters clattered and saw

When he could no longer hold himself still

A shadow did for him with its claws

Finding your form is not a form

Of discipline

Finding your form is a page torn

From history

What do you want from me

What do you want from me, now

Can you feel the apathy

How a fighter who's fought stays down

When the coaches said by any means

It was an odd way to talk

Of a human career

Maybe, he thought, there was only one means

To bring the forms locked in history near

Finding your form is not a form

Of discipline

Finding your form is a page torn

From history

What do you want from me

What do you want from me, now

Can you feel the apathy

How a fighter who's fought stays down

Above his head ads roiled in the wake

Of single-engine planes

And in those engines

And the nets their letters hung from

There was form and discipline

An engine of speech in a net in the sky

A Bronx flyweight in swag

Just starting to wonder why

A man who suddenly wanted

His good side in the dark

Standing still at the end of a shuttered light

That was suddenly stopped and stark

Finding your form is not a form

Of discipline

Finding your form is a page torn

From history

What do you want from me

What do you want from me, now

Can you feel the apathy

How a fighter who's fought stays down