| Dm | |
| I was born in PuertoRico, |
| Gm | |
| we came here when I was a child, |
| A | Dm | |
| b | efore I reached the age of 16 |
| Bb | A | Dm | |
| I was runn | in' with the gang and | we were wild |
| Dm | |
| He keeps looking but he don´t recognize me, |
| Gm | |
| some guy from Lexington or Park |
| A | Dm |
| Red beans and rice from kitchen window, |
| A | Dm | |
| it's supper time and the Barrio is dark |
| Bb | F | |
| No one knows | you like I do, |
| C | Bb | F | C | |
| nob | ody can know your h | eart the way I do |
| Bb | F | C | A | Dm | |
| No one can testify | to all that | you´ve been through, | but I will |
| Dm | |
| I was born in Puerto Rico, and my blood is Taino, |
| Gm | |
| Spanish Carribean my soul |
| A | Dm | |
| We came here wearing summer clothe | s in winter, |
| A | Dm | |
| hearts of sunshine in the cold |
| Bb | F | C | F | C | |
| Your family rented | this apartment | , |
| Bb | C | Bb | C | F | |
| you'd watch the streetlamp | s from your perch |
| F | C | |
| In the sacramental hour your | stepfather in b | lack |
| A | Dm | |
| preached the fire of | the Pentecostal church |
| Bb | F | C | |
| No one knows | you like I do, |
| Bb | F | C | |
| nobody can know yo | ur heart the way I do |
| Bb | F | C | |
| No one can testify | to all that | you've |
| A | Dm | |
| been through but this will |
| Dm | |
| I was born in Puerto Rico, |
| Gm | |
| c | ame here when I was a child |
| A | |
| Small change and sunlight, |
| Dm | |
| and I left these streets for | good, |
| A | Dm | |
| my days as short as they were wild |
| Dm | |
| I'm Carlos Apache, Angel Soto, |
| Gm | |
| Frenchy Cordero, Babu Charlie Cruz |
| A | Dm |
| Your features blurred in ev'ry grainy photo, |
| A | Dm | |
| and fading headlines | of the Daily News |
| Dm |
| Wyltwyck school for crimonal children, |
| Gm | |
| Auburn, Brooklyn House of D., |
| A | |
| Dannemora, Sing-Sing, Attica, |
| Dm |
| Greenhaven, 20 years inside, today you're free |
| Bb | F | C | F | C |
| You cannot even read your story, |
| Bb | C | Bb | C | F | |
| the pages pil | ing up in shame | , |
| F | |
| before the words released you |
| C | |
| The guard would kill the light, |
| A | |
| the night you took |
| Dm | |
| The Capeman for your name |
| Bb | F | C |
| I was born in Puerto Rico (8x) |