Hurricane

Pistol shots ring out in the ballroom night Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall She sees the bartender lying in a pool of blood Cries out, "My God, they killed them all!" Here comes the story of the Hurricane The man the authorities came to blame For somethin' that he never done Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been The champion of the world

Three bodies lyin' there does Patty see And another man named Bello movin' around mysteriously "I didn't do it," he says, and he throws up his hands I was only robbin' the register, I hope you understand I saw them leavin', he says, and he stops One of us had better call up the cops And so Patty calls the cops And they arrive on the scene with their red lights flashin'

In the hot New Jersey night

Meanwhile, far away in another part of town Rubin Carter and some friends are drivin' around The number one contender for the middleweight crown Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road Just like the time before and the time before that In Paterson that's just the way things go

If you're black you might as well not show up on the street Less you want to draw the heat

Four months later, the ghettos are in flame Rubin's in South America fightin' for his name While Arthur Dexter Bradley's still in the robbery game And the cops are puttin' the screws to him, lookin' for somebody to blame "Remember that murder that happened in a bar?" "Remember you said you saw the getaway car?"

"I'd you like to play ball with the law?" "Think it might-a been that fighter runnin' that night?" "Don't forget that you are white

Arthur Dexter Bradley said, "I'm really not sure Cops said, "A poor boy like you could use a break We got you for the motel job and we're talkin' to your friend Bello You don't wanna have to go back to jail, be a nice fellow You'll be doin' society a favor

That sonofabitch is brave and gettin' braver We want to put his ass in stir We want to pin this triple murder on him He ain't no Gentleman Jim

Rubin's cards were marked in advance The trial was a pig-circus, he never had a chance The judge made Rubin's witnesses drunkards from the slums To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum

And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger No one doubted that he pulled the trigger And though they could not produce the gun The D.A. said he was the one who did the deed And the all-white jury agreed

Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell An innocent man in a living hell That's the story of the Hurricane But it won't be over till they clear his name And give him back the time he's done Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been The champion of the world