This soul you gave
Has lost its way.
It doesn't know who made
It anymore.

Hashem, this soul
Instead of purified
Is petrified,
And heavy and full.

This soul in me's got
A little identity crisis,
With matter and anger tugging war
With rightness.

Perhaps this soul
Is mean, unfaithful.
Created divine, it still can't find
The innocence to make it grateful.

This soul needs help to find it's way,
Restorer of essence to body from sleep,
Return essence to that godly piece,
Allow your presence within me to keep.