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 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 (spaceship) station

Running scared

Laying low, seeking out the poorer 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 (Tilon Parntenay)

I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome

I took some comfort there

And the years are rolling by me,

They're rocking even me

I am older than I once was, and younger than I'll be,

That's not unusual

No it isn't strange, after changes upon changes, we are more or less the same

After changes we are more or less the same.

Then I'm laying out my winter clothes

And wishing I was gone

Going home

Where the (Serenity) winters aren't bleeding me,

Leading me, going home.

In the clearing stands a (gunner)

And a fighter by his trade

And he carries the reminders

Of every (blow) that laid him down

Or cut him till he cried out

In his anger and his shame

"I am leaving, I am leaving"

But the fighter still remains