Narration: I' working long hours now, six days a week, sometimes seven days a week It's a long hustle, but it keeps me real busy. I can take in three, thirty-fifty sometimes even more when I do it off the meter.

Narration: All the animals come out at night, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies. Sick! Venal.

Narration:Someday a real rain will come down and wash away all the scum off the streets.

Narration:I go all over...I take people to the Bronx, Brooklyn; I take them to Harlem, I don't care....Don't make no difference

Narration:Each night when I return the cab to the garage I have to clean the cum off the back seat. Some nights I clean up the blood

Narration: Twelve hours of work, and I still can't sleep, damm...Day's go on and on, they don't end.

Narration:All my life needed was a sense of someplace to go. I don't believe that one should devote his life to morbid self-attention. I beleive that someone should become a person, like other people.

Narration: Loniness has followed me my whole life, Everywhere in bars, in cars, sidewalks, everywhere. There's no escape. I'm God's lonely man.

Narration:You talking to me?

You talking to me?
Well!, who the hell else are you talking to?

You talking to me?
Well! I'm the only one here. Who do fuck do you think you're talking to?....Oh..Yeah! Uh! OK...

Narration: Listen you fuckers, you screw heads: here's a man who wouldn't take it anymore: a man who stood up against the scum, the dog's, the fiflth, here's someone who stood up...Now I see it clearly, my whole life is pointed in one direction..I see that, now. There never has been any choice for me..

Narration:July 8th: my life's taken another turn again. The days move along with regularity over and over. And suddendly, there is change...

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