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All of them are practicing adultery,
as an oven heated by a baker who stops stirring
    or kneading dough when it is leavened.
On the day of our king,
princes become sick from wine.
His hand drags scorners along.
For their hearts are like an oven,
as they wait in ambush.
All night their anger smolders.
In the morning it burns like a blazing fire.

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