| My soul is weary of my life
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| I will leave my complaint upon myself
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| I will speak in the bitterness of my soul
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| I will demand of God that you condemn me
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| It matters not wherefore thou contends with me
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| It is good unto me that thou shouldest oppress
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| That thou shouldest despise the work of thine hands
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| And shine upon the counsel of the wicked
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| A madman’s lantern falls broken upon unfeeling ground
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| What once was holiest has bled to death under our knives
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| Who will wipe this blood off us?
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| Who will wipe this blood off us?
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| Thy days are as the days of man
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| For thou art mortal and shall diminish
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| Thou knowest that I am wicked (I am wicked)
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| And there is none that could deliver thou out of my hand
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| A madman’s lantern falls broken upon unfeeling ground
|
| What once was holiest has bled to death under our knives
|
| Who will wipe this blood off us?
|
| Who will wipe this blood off us?
|
| A madman’s lantern falls broken upon unfeeling ground
|
| What once was holiest has bled to death under our knives
|
| Who will wipe this blood off us?
|
| Who will wipe this blood off us? |