Dia curse dey pain and e dey make my heart kut; I dey look for who go tell mi sorry, but I nor si. I dey find who go konfort mi, but I still nor si anybody.
Na God wont make e sofa and en deat na sakrifice, so dat God go forgive pipol dia sins. So en days go long and e go si en shidren-shidren and thru am, God go do wetin E wont.
I koll all di pipol wey love mi make dem help mi, but instead, dem kom deceive mi. Na honga kill my priests and leaders for di town wen dem dey find food wey dem go chop.
Look, di time dey kom and e don even rish, wen una go skata and evribody go-go en own way and I go stay alone. But I nor dey alone, bikos my Papa dey with mi.