1Is there not a time for us on this planet? Are our days just like a hired hand’s grind?

2Just like a servant wants shade, and a worker’s looking for that paycheck vibe:

3I’m stuck with these months of struggle, and sleepless nights are just my thing now.

4When I crash, I’m like, “When can I bounce back and ditch this night?” Can’t stop tossing till the sun’s up.

5My body’s like a worm buffet and a dust cloud; my skin’s wrecked, feeling all kinds of gross.

6My days zoom by like a shuttle, and I’m just vibing without hope.

7Yo, remember my life’s like wind: my eye ain’t gonna see good times again.

8The eye that’s seen me won’t see me again: you’re looking at me, but I’m ghosting.

9Just like clouds fade away: that person going down to the grave ain’t coming back.

10He won’t roll back to his crib, and his spot won’t even remember him.

11So, I’m just gonna spill it; I’ll talk about the pain in my spirit; I’ll vent about the bitterness in my soul.

12Am I a sea or a whale that you gotta keep an eye on me?

13When I think my bed’s gonna chill me out, my couch’s just there to ease my complaints;

14Then you hit me with nightmares and freak me out with visions:

15My soul’s like, “I’d rather choke than keep living this life.”

16I’m over it; I don’t wanna live forever: just leave me be; my days are all cap.

17What’s the deal with humanity, that you hype us up? Why you got your heart set on us?

18And you check in on us every morning, testing us every moment?

19How long you gonna stick around, not letting me chill until I swallow my spit?

20I messed up; what’s your move, O keeper of humanity? Why you got me as your target, making me a burden to myself?

21And why don’t you just forgive my mess-ups and take away my wrongs? 'Cause now I’m gonna sleep in the dust, and you’ll look for me in the morning, but I won’t be there.

1Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth? are not his days also like the days of an hireling?

2As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling looketh for the reward of his work:

3So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me.

4When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? and I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day.

5My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome.

6My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and are spent without hope.

7O remember that my life is wind: mine eye shall no more see good.

8The eye of him that hath seen me shall see me no more: thine eyes are upon me, and I am not.

9As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away: so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more.

10He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more.

11Therefore I will not refrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.

12Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou settest a watch over me?

13When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint;

14Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions:

15So that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than my life.

16I loathe it; I would not live alway: let me alone; for my days are vanity.

17What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him?

18And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment?

19How long wilt thou not depart from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?

20I have sinned; what shall I do unto thee, O thou preserver of men? why hast thou set me as a mark against thee, so that I am a burden to myself?

21And why dost thou not pardon my transgression, and take away mine iniquity? for now shall I sleep in the dust; and thou shalt seek me in the morning, but I shall not be.