Dead people can’t praise God— not a word to be heard from those buried in the ground. But we bless God, oh yes— we bless him now, we bless him always! Hallelujah!
I’m tired of all this—so tired. My bed has been floating forty days and nights On the flood of my tears. My mattress is soaked, soggy with tears. The sockets of my eyes are black holes; nearly blind, I squint and grope.