we set sail to this thing called trustnthe plans of the righteous are justn(your plans are just, your plans are just)nbut i'm still recoveringni'm contemplating other things nbut i've set my sights on younnall that i need is the smallest seednto plant the faith to move a citynand all that i see is distress and apathynbut i won't lose faith and be like the phariseesnni'll depart with nothing i've held in my two handsnyou wealthy rulers: no you won't understandnbetter is tranquility in onenthan the grievous evil under the midday sunnwe'll look at what we've donenwhat will we have to run from?nnall that i need is the smallest seednto plant the faith to move a citynand all that i see is distress and apathynbut i won't lose faith and be like the phariseesnnmay my time here be pleasing to younmay my words, dear, move closer to truthncan my thoughts be oh, so pure?nhold me now i want nothing more...nnothing more.