| Victor Jara of Chile
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| Lived like a shooting star
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| He fought for the people of Chile
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| With his songs and his guitar
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| His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
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| Victor Jara was a peasant
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| Who worked from a few years old
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| He sat upon his father’s plow
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| And watched the earth unfold
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| His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
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| Now when the neighbors had a wedding
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| Or one of their children died
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| His mother sang all night for them
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| With Victor by her side
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| His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
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| He grew up to be a fighter
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| Against the people’s wrongs
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| He listened to their grief and joy
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| And turned them into songs
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| His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
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| He sang about the copper miners
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| And those who worked the land
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| He sang about the factory workers
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| And they knew he was their man
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| His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
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| He campaigned for Allende
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| Working night and day
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| He sang, «take hold of your brother’s hand
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| The future begins today»
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| His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
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| Then the generals seized Chile
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| They arrested Victor then
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| They caged him in a stadium
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| With five thousand frightened men
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| His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
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| Victor stood in the stadium
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| His voice was brave and strong
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| And he sang for his fellow prisoners
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| 'Til the guards cut short his song
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| His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
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| They broke the bones in both his hands
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| They beat him on the head
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| They tore him with electric shocks
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| And then they shot him dead
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| His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
|
| Victor Jara of Chile
|
| Lived like a shooting star
|
| And he fought for the people of Chile
|
| With his songs and his guitar
|
| His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
|
| His hands were gentle, his hands were strong |