******pistol shots ring out in the barroom night |
enter patty valentine from the upper hall. |
she sees the bartender 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 didnt 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 a couple of friends are drivin around. |
|
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 thats just the way things go. |
|
if youre black you might as well not show up on the street |
less you wanna draw the heat. |
|
alfred bello had a partner |
and he had a rap for the cops. |
him and arthur dexter bradley were just |
out prowlin around |
he said, "i saw two men runnin out, |
they looked like middleweights |
they jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates." |
and miss patty valentine just nodded her head. |
cop said, "wait a minute, |
boys, this ones not dead" |
so they took him to the infirmary |
and though this man could hardly see |
they told him that he could identify the guilty men. |
|
four in the mornin and they haul rubin in, |
take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs. |
the wounded man looks up through his one dyin eye |
says, "whad you bring him in here for? he aint the guy!" |
yes, heres 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. |
|
four months later, the ghettos are in flame, |
rubins in south america, fightin for his name |
while arthur dexter bradleys 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?" |
"you think youd like to play ball with the law?" |
"think it might-a been that fighter that you saw runnin that night?" |
"dont forget that you are white." |
|
arthur dexter bradley said, "im really not sure." |
cops said, |
"a poor boy like you could use a break |
we got you for the motel job |
and were talkin to your friend bello |
now you dont wanta have to go back to jail, be a nice fellow. |
youll 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 aint no gentleman jim." |
|
rubin could take a man out with just one punch |
but he never did like to talk about it all that much. |
its my work, hed say, and i do it for pay |
and when its over id just as soon go on my way |
up to some paradise |
where the trout streams flow and the air is nice |
and ride a horse along a trail. |
but then they took him to the jailhouse |
where they try to turn a man into a mouse. |
|
all of rubins cards were marked in advance |
the trial was a pig-circus, he never had a chance. |
the judge made rubins 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. |
|
rubin carter was falsely tried. |
the crime was murder "one," guess who testified? |
bello and bradley and they both baldly lied |
and the newspapers, they all went along for the ride. |
how can the life of such a man |
be in the palm of some fools hand? |
to see him obviously framed |
couldnt help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land |
where justice is a game. |
|
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. |
thats the story of the hurricane, |
but it wont be over till they clear his name |
and give him back the time hes done. |
put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been |
the champion of the world. |