There
was a murder down in
Chinatown on a cold
September late
A teenage killer pulls a gun,
blood spatters on the plates
Curious stop, the siren screams,
soon there is a crowd
Someone killed in
Chinatown,
they said it right out loud
Families flee, the restaurant closed,
people running fast
Cops poke through the garbage,
find a body by the trash
While unseen steps walk through the
rain to a subway underground
A gun is tossed along the tracks and
the wheel goes one more round
The pretty couple pay the tab and
walk across the street
Flashing lights, they draw a stairway,
canal and mulberry mead
He wraps a jacket round her arms,
with a quick eye down her brow
A button now reveals a
curve he never saw
He likes her name,
Charlene,
Charlene sounds so clean
And that she works on
Wall
Street at a firm with twenty
names
Oh, an ambulance was one trip
that could never be for them
He puts his arm around her waist
and lets the bottle spin
Spins around, it goes around
A gun is crushed beneath the tracks and
the wheel goes one more round
Charlene hikes a skirt up,
pulls a stocking down her leg
She takes the band out from her hair,
gets up and shuts the shade
A lawyer in her bathroom,
she met him at a bar
She negotiates with the earth now,
she gave up all the stars
The coolness of his hand exposed
the softness of his skin
She shows the wind between her legs and
reaches out for him
Her other hand can feel the dress,
she has no wedding gown
Twist the cloth of broken dreams and the wheel
goes one more round
At two a .m. it's finished,
she lights a cigarette
She doesn't hear his lame excuse,
I see him getting dressed
Outside he walks to
Chinatown to get something to eat
Strange women make him nervous,
the first time when they meet
The restaurant wasn't open,
only cops and broken glass
Something evil happened here,
a feeling told and met
Takes a taxi in the rain,
in the dark he looks around
Finds a phone,
makes a call and the wheel goes one more round
Spins around, it goes around
Just the cloth of broken dreams and the
wheel goes one more round
The stretcher from the ambulance
drops a body at the morgue
It's quiet for a
Sunday night, just a few above the floor
They roll into a cold room,
where they write a short report
A face with no identity,
they didn't have much more
Meanwhile in a bed room,
two eyes look in the mir ror
A face with no identity,
with a voice no one can hear
She pulls the window shades,
sees the lights of
Chinatown
With a dead dream of the living,
the wheel goes one more round
It goes around, it spins around
The face with no identity,
and the wheel goes one more round
It goes around, it spins around
With the daydream of the living
The wheel goes round and round
It was a murder down in
Chinatown
It was a murder down in
Chinatown
Just a minute down in
Chinatown
Just a minute down in