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ACT III, Scene 2

Vandal on the Windshield Music by Elton John, Words by John Abrahams

Scene:  Street outside Cummins' house.  GRETA approaches Mitchell's parked car, finding it empty -- save for half dozen fast food wrappers, deposit cans, and a potatocake.  She pulls a lipstick from her purse and begins to write an expletive on the LTD's windshield . . .

Your car is hardly clean I can barely see the floor at all . . . So this is the place you drive yourself When you've driven others up the wall . . . You rifled through my purse And you found a little grass You sent me to the big house And you wrecked my name, you ass And it seems to me you’ve made me write Like a vandal on the windshield You’ll be knowing, what a jerk you Are when you read this And I would have liked to told you Just like that little kid . . . You busted me though you had stole My heart before you did God, this job is tough The toughest john I ever played It’s not the way it’s supposed to be; The client’s the one who should pay! Even when I cried Oh the tears never bothered you All my cellmate had to say Is, did you really sleep with this dude? And it seems to me you’ve made me write Like a vandal on the windshield You’ll be knowing, what a jerk you Are when you read this And I would have liked to told you Just like that little kid . . . You busted me though you had stole My heart before you did Goodbye, boozy guy From the girl in the 22nd cell Who saw you as something more than a detective More than just that slob, Mitchell . . .