16 I kry sotey my eyes don dey red and swell-up and naw, na only darkness I dey si.
My friends dey tok against mi and I dey kry give God.
My eyes don swell-up bikos of kry; my body don tin like broom.
Dem dey fear morning lite, but dem nor get anytin to fear for nite.
Na ashes I dey chop as food and my tear dey rush enter my drink,
bikos deat kover mi like klot and di fear to die go grave, dey make mi shake. Na only sorrow and trobol I dey si.
My Oga God, make Yu sorry for mi, bikos I dey pass thru pain as I dey kry and my body and soul dey die dey go.
Wen I nor gri konfess my sins, my body kon dey die go and I kon dey kry with pain.
I don taya to dey shaut for help; sore dey my trot naw and my eye don taya to dey look for my God.
Pipol go sopraiz wen dem si am, bikos dem bin beat am well-well and e nor bi like human being again.
Bikos of dis tins; I kry well-well, but nobody dey to konfort or give mi hope. My shidren nor get future, bikos awa enemies don win us.
E kon tell dem, “My heart dey heavy well-well like sey I won die. So, make una stay here dey wosh.”