Оригинален текст
The prizefighter asks for a pratyer from the priest
He's not sure he'll make it through the night
He said "so many times i've been prepared to throw down my fists and give up the fight,"
This is the last time that you'll see the pride in his eyes,
Bruised and swollen shut from the punches that ultimately took his life
As he enters the room the crowd is deafening
And he things to himself "what the hell am I doing here? I left a life so long ago, I knew so well,"
So, so proud