To the overseer for the silent dove of those far off: to David, a poem in the rovers taking him in Gath. Compassionate me, O God, for man panted after me; warring all the day, he will press me.
And king Jehoiakim will hear, and all the great ones, and all the chiefs, his words, and the king will seek to kill him: and Urijah will hear and be afraid, and he will flee and go to Egypt
And David will run and stand upon the rover, and take his sword and draw it from its sheath, and kill him and cut off his head with it. And the rovers will see that their mighty one died, and they will flee.