Riding down the street on a Harley bike
Dressed in black leather and spikes
A cigarette lit, devil in his eye
The girls all swoon as he walks by
Look out cats get out of the way
He's a black leather hurricane

Looking for a rumble, looking for a fight
A pompadour, a knife, and a Saturday night
Down in the alley you can hear him howl
A lone wolf out on the prowl
He's raving mad, that cat's insane
He's a black leather hurricane

He's got no address the highway's his home
He's a poet, a prophet, and a singer of songs
He's free as the wind and cold as ice
And that's the way he'll live his life
The hep cats jump when they hear his name
He's a black leather hurricane

Courtesy of Justin Curtis