For what am I accustom?
To the customs of the times,
For what I am in solving?
All the bitter lies,

For what do you pretend,
To pretentiously understand,

Like the depths of water,
Or the silkest sands,

Drawing my way through the desert,
I slowly came along,

Like old rivers dried,
A bed of death alone,
I solemnly crawled,
To my rest of formless deep,

All of the reasons for me,
Slowly start to creep,
Ways away away, a way,
I am away I am,
Away I am way,
Although I do not,
I must simply follow Yahweh