tough life being a boxer

one moment you're spitting out your teeth in the corner, feeling exhausted and the next you're cheering yourself up and going back to receiving blow after blow, only pain, no goddamn break. luck be a lady - she ain't here tonight. can't even remember when was the last time you saw her. maybe she never came at all. there's hurt all over your face. nothing helps you. you're on your own AND against every little thing on earth (or, better said, everything's against you). but life is beautiful, at least that's what the crowd is cheering, 'it could be worse', 'it's all your fault', 'get up, get up', 'go back and punch it in the face', 'do this', 'do that' - and you try, hell knows you really are trying, but everytime you seem to get it right, something bad happens, no luck, there's no friggin' luck left for you. you turn around, try to explain it to them, you did everything they told you to, followed every advice, traced every step, swinged your arms at the elbows, jiggled your hips, said all your prayers, much good did it bring you, huh? nothing but a long string of misfortunes. you think you've finally got the rythm right, had a couple of good moves, and once more when things seem fine, you're dealt a mighty one. then you're back in the corner, spitting teeth and feeling cashed, cheering yourself up, there's never enough time for a break, no way out of this endless fight, away from bad luck and exhaustion.