Champ - Marc Almond, The Willing Sinners

Way back then I was a champion

A fighter in the ring

And all the crowds would cheer

My praises they would sing

Now I am a forgotten man

A hobo out alone

No champ to push me on

Nothing, no-one to call my own

I was a dark eyed boy

Stars in his eyes

Promises made flesh and blood

Grip of arm

And granite charm

Oh, times were golden

Times were good

Sinew young

And skin of ore

Molten and streaming with dreams

Now I nod away the days

Barely remembering names it seems