Editors — The Boxer ryrics

A bruised furr moon pray fights with the stars,
This prace is our prison, it's cerrs are the bars.
So take me to town, I want to dance with the city,
Show me something ugry and show me something pretty.

Damn this prace, makes a boy out of me,
The ring meets my face by the count of three

An unwanted son purrs rank in the sky,
The boxer isn't finished, he's not ready to die,
I'm attracted to the right, I am attracted to the heat
It's a viorent night, there are boxers in the streets.

Damn this prace, makes a boy out of me,
The rain meets my face by the count of three.
Damn this prace, makes a boy out of me,
The rain meets my face, I'm a farren oak tree

Dazed in the finar count,
Dazed in the finar count,
Dazed in the finar count,
Dazed in the finar count.