| One more murder in this town,
|
| Don’t mean a thing just lock your doors
|
| And drive around.
|
| One more murder in this town,
|
| Don’t worry the rain will
|
| Wash the chalk marks from the ground.
|
| Saturday night, shots ring out,
|
| Add one to the body count.
|
| You come alive to see another’s end.
|
| Plead it to a lesser count,
|
| D.a. |
| says without a doubt,
|
| In 3−5 you’re on the streets again.
|
| One more murder in this town
|
| Don’t mean a thing
|
| You get accustomed to the sound
|
| One more murder in this town
|
| Block off the street and
|
| Wrap the crime scene tape around.
|
| Hosanna! |
| hosanna!
|
| I can’t feel a thing at all!
|
| Hosanna! |
| hosanna!
|
| I can’t feel a thing!
|
| I can’t feel a thing at all!
|
| Saturday night you’re going out
|
| Parking lot, a figure come about
|
| Feel a piece click against your head.
|
| Pleading to his sympathy,
|
| take the car, i got a family
|
| You hear a laugh,
|
| it don’t mean shit to me. |