George Chuvalo

The gardens filled up early and the blood ran in the eyes
Of every woman, man, and child there to see the sacrifice
Heaven help the man who had to stare into those hands
George Chuvalo could feel the ring like no one can

Oh, George, have mercy on his soul
He's too tired to fight tonight
Every scar, a pain you can't let go
Look away from the turnstiles
And point that right cross straight into the light

No one ever knocked him down, even when he lost
Still the toughest man in town, like Job, his family paid the cost
A needle cuts the bone and poisons the seeds that you've sown
And turns your children into ghosts trying to find their way home

Oh, George, have mercy on his soul
He's too tired to fight tonight
Every scar, a pain you can't let go
Look away from the turnstiles
And point that right cross straight into the light

And the ten count comes so soon, and the stars fill up the room
And you drift into the rafters like a lost balloon
Say a prayer for the iron man who lost more than he'll ever win
Where angels fear to tread, he climbs again and again

Gladiators cry alone in a prison cell or a lonely phone booth
In a world where one punch can turn your life to stone
Oh, Lord, have mercy on their souls
They're too tired to fight tonight
Every scar, a tear you can't console
Look away from the turnstiles

Oh, Lord, have mercy on their souls
They're too tired to fight tonight
Every scar, a tear you can't console
Look away from the turnstiles
And point that right cross straight into the light

Point that right cross straight into the light