How miserable I amnI feel like a fruit-picker who arrived herenAfter the harvestnThere's nothing here at allnNothing at all here that could placate my hungernThe godly people are all gonenThere's not one honest soul left alivenHere on the planetnWe're all murderers and thievesnSetting traps here for even our brothersnnAnd both of our hands are equally skillednAt doing evil, equally skillednAt bribing the judges, equally skillednAt perverting justicenBoth of our handsnBoth of our handsnnThe day of justice comesnAnd is even now swiftly arrivingnDon't trust anyone at allnNot your best friend or even your wifenFor the son hates the fathernThe daughter despises even her mothernLook, your enemies arrivenRight in the room of your very householdnnAnd both of their hands are equally skillednAt doing evil, equally skillednAt bribing the judges, equally skillednAt perverting justicenBoth of their handsnBoth of their handsnnNo, don't gloat over menThough I fall, though I fallnI will rise againnThough I sit here in darknessnThe Lord, the Lord alonenHe will be my lightnI will be patient as the LordnPunishes me for the wrongs I've donenAgainst HimnAfter that, He'll take my casenBringing me to light and the justicenFor all I have sufferednnAnd both of His handsnAre equally skillednAt ruining evil, equally skillednAt judging the judges, equally skillednAdministering justicenBoth of His handsnnBoth of His handsnAre equally skillednAt showing me mercy, equally skillednAt loving the loveless, equally skillednAdministering justicenBoth of His handsnBoth of His hands