Quicksand under me, swamp water over me;
I’m going down for the third time.

I’m hoarse from calling for help,
Bleary-eyed from searching the sky for God.

I’ve got more enemies than hairs on my head;
Liars and cheats are out to knife me in the back.

What I never stole
Must I now give back?

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I sink in the miry depths,(A)
    where there is no foothold.
I have come into the deep waters;
    the floods engulf me.
I am worn out calling for help;(B)
    my throat is parched.
My eyes fail,(C)
    looking for my God.
Those who hate me(D) without reason(E)
    outnumber the hairs of my head;
many are my enemies without cause,(F)
    those who seek to destroy me.(G)
I am forced to restore
    what I did not steal.

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