Equally Skilled, Jon Foreman
How miserable I am
I feel like a fruit picker who arrived here
after the harvest
There's nothing here at all
There's nothing at all here that could placate my hunger
The godly people are all gone
There's not one honest soul left alive here on this planet
We're all murderers and thieves
Setting traps here for even our brothers
And both of our hands
Are equally skilled
At doing evil
Equally skilled
At perverting justice
Both of our hands
Both of our hands
The day of justice comes
And is even now swiftly arriving
Don't trust anyone at all
Not your best friend or even your wife
For the son hates the father
The daughter despises even the mother
Look! Your enemies are right
Right in the room of your very household
And both of their hands are equally skilled
Equally skilled
No, don't gloat over me
For though I fall, though I fall
I will rise again
Though I sit here in darkness
The Lord, the Lord alone
He will be my light.
I will be patient as the Lord
Punishes me for the wrongs I've done against Him
After that He'll take my case
Bringing me to light and to justice
For all I have suffered
And both of His hands
Are equally skilled
At ruining evil
Equally skilled
At judging the judges
Equally skilled
At administering justice
Both of His hands
Both of His hands
Are equally skilled
At showing mercy
Equally skilled
At loving the loveless
Equally skilled
At administering justice
Both of His hands
Both of His hands
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