Letra Música Hurricane – Bob Dylan
Pistol shots ring out in the ballroom night
Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall
She sees the bartender in a pool of blood
Cries out, My God, they’ve 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 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 that’s just the way things go
If you’re 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 one’s 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: Why’d you bring him in here for?
He ain’t the guy!
Yes, here’s 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
Rubin’s in South America
Fightin’ for his name
While Arthur Dexter Bradley is
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 you’d like to play ball with the law?
Think it might’a been that fighter
That you saw 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
Now you don’t want to have to go back to jail
Be a nice fellow
You’ll be doin’ society a favor
That son of a bitch 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 could take a man out with just one punch
But he never did like to talk about it all that much
It’s my work, he’d say, and I do it for pay
And when it’s over I’d 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 jail house
Where they try to turn a man into a mouse
All of 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
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 fool’s hand?
To see him obviously framed
Couldn’t 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
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
Bob Dylan – Hurricane – Ouvir Música