Taxis Lights

Taxis Lights whip of the night,
this is the adult work.
Philosopher, and a psychiatrist sitting on the steering wheel
the back. The rear bench seat
woman betrayed pale as a sheet.
Cone full of suffocating feelings,
more to life than to give.
It's like a pawnshop
the best feelings of the world.
This winter is just as the rain,
Dublin is flooded, it again
Evening Magazine news gets.
The drunk neighbor to call the night
dirges. soul bruising
tells a story. loneliness is
will be too much to love by
sign on my shoulders hate to hand out.
I am the woman in a taxi without a goal,
without a trip across to happiness
to take the early morning the only bright spot may be exported.