[Verse 1: Weathered storyteller male MC, low and steady over the heavy kick] I fix the buses for the city on the night shift in the yard Grease up to my elbows and my knuckles cut and scarred Got a letter in the mail, said report to room nine Twelve strangers and a kid and a lawyer with a shine Kid was barely grown, they said he robbed a liquor store on Main Camera caught a hoodie and a limp and a chain Prosecutor smooth, laid it out like a map Said a witness saw him step off the number six by the gap Ten-fifteen on a Sunday, and she swore it on her son Eleven heads were nodding like the verdict had been done But I fix the number six, and I know the way it runs [Hook: Weathered storyteller male MC] Eleven to one, and the one was me Eleven good men who were ready to leave You can bet on the many, I'll bet on the one Eleven to one, and we ain't done [Verse 2: Weathered storyteller male MC, the muted guitar loop tightens] First vote by hand and it's eleven in the air Mine stayed on the table like a wrench on a chair The roofer called me stubborn and the teacher called me slow The lady with the knitting said we all just want to go Day two, the coffee's burnt and the air conditioner's dead I told them how a Sunday schedule sits inside my head After ten on a Sunday, every six goes to the barn I rebuilt half of those engines, I can feel it in my arm Day three, it was quiet, the kind where a clock makes a sound The foreman's wife called, and he cussed, and he sat himself down Then the teacher asked to see the transit map they had in evidence And the room got real small when the timetable made sense [Hook: Weathered storyteller male MC] Eleven to one, and the one was me Eleven good men who were ready to leave You can bet on the many, I'll bet on the one Eleven to one, and we ain't done [Bridge: Weathered storyteller male MC, jury poll, every answer lands on one knock of courtroom wood] Juror one, not guilty Juror two, the same All the way to twelve, the clerk read down the line And the kid's mother sat there with her hands across her eyes [Verse 3: Weathered storyteller male MC, full weight, slower and harder] I went back to work that night like nothing really changed Same yard, same grease, same buses in the rain But I think about the odds every time I turn a bolt How a whole room can be wrong and still be sure it's not their fault Eleven decent people, not a villain in the bunch They just wanted to get home in time to pack the kids a lunch That's the scary part, the part I carried home in my coat Nobody has to hate you for a room to cast that vote So if they ever call you and they sit you in that chair Be the one, be the wrench, be the bolt that's still there [Final Hook: Weathered storyteller male MC] Eleven to one, and the one was me Eleven good men who were ready to leave You can bet on the many, I'll bet on the one Eleven to one, and we ain't done [End]
