| Pistol shots ring out in the barroom night
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| Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall.
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| She sees the bartender in a pool of blood,
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| Cries out, My God, they killed them all!
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| Here comes the story of the Hurricane,
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| The man the authorities came to blame
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| For somethin' that he never done.
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| Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been
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| The champion of the world.
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| Three bodies lyin' there does Patty see
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| And another man named Bello, movin' around mysteriously.
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| I didn't do it, he says, and he throws up his hands
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| I was only robbin' the register, I hope you understand.
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| I saw them leavin', he says, and he stops
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| One of us had better call up the cops.
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| And so Patty calls the cops
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| And they arrive on the scene with their red lights flashin'
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| In the hot New Jersey night.
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| Meanwhile, far away in another part of town
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| Rubin Carter and a couple of friends are drivin' around.
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| Number one contender for the middleweight crown
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| Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down
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| When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road
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| Just like the time before and the time before that.
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| In Paterson that's just the way things go.
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| If you're black you might as well not show up on the street
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| 'Less you wanna draw the heat.
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| Alfred Bello had a partner and he had a rap for the cops.
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| Him and Arthur Dexter Bradley were just out prowlin' around
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| He said, I saw two men runnin' out, they looked like middleweights
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| They jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates.
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| And Miss Patty Valentine just nodded her head.
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| Cop said, Wait a minute, boys, this one's not dead
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| So they took him to the infirmary
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| And though this man could hardly see
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| They told him that he could identify the guilty men.
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| Four in the mornin' and they haul Rubin in,
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| Take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs.
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| The wounded man looks up through his one dyin' eye
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| Says, Wha'd you bring him in here for? |
| He ain't the guy!
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| Yes, here's the story of the Hurricane,
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| The man the authorities came to blame
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| For somethin' that he never done.
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| Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been
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| The champion of the world.
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| Four months later, the ghettos are in flame,
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| Rubin's in South America, fightin' for his name
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| While Arthur Dexter Bradley's still in the robbery game
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| And the cops are puttin' the screws to him, lookin' for somebody to blame.
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| Remember that murder that happened in a bar?
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| Remember you said you saw the getaway car?
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| You think you'd like to play ball with the law?
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| Think it might-a been that fighter that you saw runnin' that night?
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| Don't forget that you are white.
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| Arthur Dexter Bradley said, I'm really not sure.
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| Cops said, A poor boy like you could use a break
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| We got you for the motel job and we're talkin' to your friend Bello
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| Now you don't wanta have to go back to jail, be a nice fellow.
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| You'll be doin' society a favor.
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| That sonofabitch is brave and gettin' braver.
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| We want to put his ass in stir
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| We want to pin this triple murder on him
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| He ain't no Gentleman Jim.
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| Rubin could take a man out with just one punch
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| But he never did like to talk about it all that much.
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| It's my work, he'd say, and I do it for pay
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| And when it's over I'd just as soon go on my way
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| Up to some paradise
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| Where the trout streams flow and the air is nice
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| And ride a horse along a trail.
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| But then they took him to the jailhouse
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| Where they try to turn a man into a mouse.
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| All of Rubin's cards were marked in advance
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| The trial was a pig-circus, he never had a chance.
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| The judge made Rubin's witnesses drunkards from the slums
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| To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum
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| And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger.
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| No one doubted that he pulled the trigger.
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| And though they could not produce the gun,
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| The D.A. |
| said he was the one who did the deed
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| And the all-white jury agreed.
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| Rubin Carter was falsely tried.
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| The crime was murder one, guess who testified?
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| Bello and Bradley and they both baldly lied
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| And the newspapers, they all went along for the ride.
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| How can the life of such a man
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| Be in the palm of some fool's hand?
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| To see him obviously framed
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| Couldn't help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land
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| Where justice is a game.
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| Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties
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| Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise
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| While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell
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| An innocent man in a living hell.
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| That's the story of the Hurricane,
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| But it won't be over till they clear his name
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| And give him back the time he's done.
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| Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been
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| The champion of the world. |