Don’t let them find me— the conspirators out to get me, Using their tongues as weapons, flinging poison words, poison-tipped arrow-words. They shoot from ambush, shoot without warning, not caring who they hit. They keep fit doing calisthenics of evil purpose, They keep lists of the traps they’ve secretly set. They say to each other, “No one can catch us, no one can detect our perfect crime.” The Detective detects the mystery in the dark of the cellar heart.
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Read Psalms 64
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