Psalms 39:1-6

I’m determined to watch steps and tongue so they won’t land me in trouble. I decided to hold my tongue as long as Wicked is in the room. “Mum’s the word,” I said, and kept quiet. But the longer I kept silence The worse it got— my insides got hotter and hotter. My thoughts boiled over; I spilled my guts. “Tell me, what’s going on, GOD? How long do I have to live? Give me the bad news! You’ve kept me on pretty short rations; my life is a string too short to be saved. Oh! we’re all puffs of air. Oh! we’re all shadows in a campfire. Oh! we’re just spit in the wind. We make our pile, and then we leave it.