I eighty year ol now, you know. I no can tell if someting stay good o bad. I no can taste wat I eat o drink. I no can hear da voices from da guys an wahines wen dey sing. How come I goin make mo work fo you, my boss da king, aah?
No matta I ol awready an get gray hair, God, no dump me, Till I pau tell da kids How strong you stay, An tell all da ones Dat goin born afta dem, Da kine powa you get.
Da time us get fo live, ony seventy year, Maybe eighty, if we strong. But no matta how long us guys live, Da bestes year, Still make us guys come real tired An give us plenny humbug. Cuz da year pass real fas, Jalike we fly away.
Even wen you guys come ol an get gray hair, I still Da One In Charge. I still goin help you guys. I wen make you guys An I goin carry you guys. I goin get you guys outa trouble.
Az why I gotta suffa, you know. But no matta to me cuz I no shame fo suffa! I know Jesus, dass why. He da One I trus. I know dis fo shua: he wen give me one big job fo do, an he stay trus me fo do um da right way. An I can do um! Cuz Jesus get da powa fo take kea eryting till he come back.
Erytime peopo like do bad kine stuff to me, Da One In Charge goin make shua dat notting bad happen to me. He goin take me outa all dat, an take me to da sky, wea he da King. I like erybody tell how awesome he stay, an I like fo dem tell dat foeva an eva! Az right!