1-3. I’m determined to watch steps and tongueso they won’t land me in trouble.I decided to hold my tongueas long as Wicked is in the room.“Mum’s the word,” I said, and kept quiet.But the longer I kept silenceThe worse it got—my insides got hotter and hotter.My thoughts boiled over;I spilled my guts.
4-6. “Tell me, what’s going on, God?How long do I have to live?Give me the bad news!You’ve kept me on pretty short rations;my life is string too short to be saved.Oh! we’re all puffs of air.Oh! we’re all shadows in a campfire.Oh! we’re just spit in the wind.We make our pile, and then we leave it.
7-11. “What am I doing in the meantime, Lord?Hoping, that’s what I’m doing—hopingYou’ll save me from a rebel life,save me from the contempt of dunces.I’ll say no more, I’ll shut my mouth,since you, Lord, are behind all this.But I can’t take it much longer.When you put us through the fireto purge us from our sin,our dearest idols go up in smoke.Are we also nothing but smoke?
12-13. “Ah, God, listen to my prayer, mycry—open your ears.Don’t be callous;just look at these tears of mine.I’m a stranger here. I don’t know my way—a migrant like my whole family.Give me a break, cut me some slackbefore it’s too late and I’m out of here.”