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If I (A)lie down I say,
‘When shall I arise?’
But the twilight continues,
And I am saturated with tossing until dawn.
My (B)flesh is clothed with worms and a crust of dirt;
My skin scabs over and flows out again.
My days are (C)swifter than a weaver’s shuttle,
And come to an end (D)without hope.

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