"Good Lord, where are You?
If You really do exist,
why don't You come out of hiding and
do something about this creature in distress?

I am physically weary, I am mentally depressed,
I am spiritually defeated.
I can't eat, can't sleep.
I am like garbage,
discarded refuse in the back alley;
like yesterday's newspaper
shuffled around by the wind.
I feel like some sort of zombie,
some non-entity,
some nothing that people,
if they acknowledge,
would only curse.

But the prophets have declared Your mercy.
You do reign over our world, they say
You do show concern
for the poor clods of this earth.
Good Lord, prove it!
Look down from wherever You are
on Your creatures wallowing in wretchedness.
Deliver us, O God, set us free!

For your years have no end,
nor do the destinies of those who trust in You."