Friday evening finds me in a favourite bar of mine,
Drinking with some friends with whom I like to spend my time.
When in comes John and he's bleeding, from his mouth and from his chin,
I said "My friend John, Come here and tell me what kind of trouble have you been in.
You see Friday evening finds me coming down to meet you here,
I've got nothing more on my mind than a long cool gla** of beer.
When these four guys that jumped me, and they did this to my face.
And one of them shouted something about my colour and my race.
Oh no, I don't want to believe it, but there's this ringing that's in my ears,
And if it wasn't for the pain to remind me again, I swear I'd have to break down in tears.
And Claudia's from Harlem, she warned it wouldn't do no good.
Sitting with your safe friends when you talk of brotherhood.
You "back-bar-revolutioneries" only talk about what to do.
You end up too drunk on your theories, to ever see then through.
Oh no, I cannot believe it. has it really got this late,
I can't put the clock back, a few cool beers, and say it's all been a big mistake.
Claudia's from Harlem, she's an artist and she works,
She's reflected all your sympathy, how can you ask for hers.
Too late for you to say now, you know just how she feels.
While you fumble with your modelling clay, Claudia builds in steel.
And Friday evening finds me stacked up drunk against the wall,
Will you hold on John, for I'm feeling bad and if you slip we'll both fall.
For John is as white as I am, and we both love everyone.
I thought everybody must've known that by now, but they have all gone home.
Oh no, I cannot believe it. has it really got this late,
I can't put the clock back, a few cool beers, and say it's all been a big mistake.
Oh no, I don't want to believe it, but until the ringing is in their ears,
They're gonna swear to God they never thought those things could happen here.