Du Morgon Au Moulin-À-Vent (Pour Duke)

A truck driver, second floor roomer, good for next month's rent

A screaming silence fell down three flights and hit the basement

Couldn't last any longer, her getting by life

The jealousy, these others with husbands who still had teeth

Every broad in the building screamed down into her room

Screaming on her to make it, to get her hat

Scraped the wind outside the glowing December slabs

Nailed her against her own desperation

And they had no idea why she split without a fight

All those strikes against her

Like the students there who just came out of prison, giggling

Man, I can't even afford to look with my eyes, funny

But how could I tell him?

Her love had hit me the hardest, with my wife standing inside my skull