| It was out to california young davey moore did go
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| To meet with sugar ramos and trade him blow for blow
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| He left his home in springfield, his wife and children five;
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| The spring was fast approaching, it was good to be alive
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| His wife, she begged and pleaded, «you have to leave this game
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| Is it worth the bloodshed and is it worth the pain? |
| «But davey could not hear above the cheering crowd
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| He was a champion, and champions are proud
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| Hang his gloves upon the wall, shine his trophies bright clear
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| Another man will fall before we dry our tears
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| For the fighters must destroy as the poets must sing
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| As the hungry crowd must gather for the blood upon the ring
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| And thousands gave a roar when davey moore walked in
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| Another man to beat, another purse to win
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| And all along the ringside, a sight beyond compare
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| The money-chasing vultures were waiting for their share
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| He stood there in his corner and he waited for the bell;
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| The signal of the struggle of two men facin' hell;
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| And when the bell was sounded, the blows began to rain
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| And blows will lead to hate -- hate drives men insane
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| The fists were flying fast and hard, the sweat was pouring down
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| And davey moore grew weaker with ev’ry passin' round
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| His legs began to wobble and his arms began to strain
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| He fell upon the canvas floor, a fog around his brain
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| At last the fight was over, young davey fought no more
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| He lost the final battle behind a doctor’s door
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| And back at the arena, the screaming crowd is gone
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| And death is waiting ringside, for the next fight to come on |