1-2. God, are you avoiding me?Where are you when I need you?Full of hot air, the wickedare hot on the trail of the poor.Trip them up, tangle them upin their fine-tuned plots.
3-4. The wicked are windbags,the swindlers have foul breath.The wicked snub God,their noses stuck high in the air.Their graffiti are scrawled on the walls:“Catch us if you can!” “God is dead.”
5-6. They care nothing for what you think;if you get in their way, they blow you off.They live (they think) a charmed life:“We can’t go wrong. This is our lucky year!”