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