They're trapped, those godless countries, in the very snares they set, Their feet all tangled in the net they spread.
They have no excuse; the way God works is well-known. The cunning machinery made by the wicked has maimed their own hands.
The wicked bought a one-way ticket to hell.
No longer will the poor be nameless - no more humiliation for the humble.
Up, God! Aren't you fed up with their empty strutting? Expose these grand pretensions!
Shake them up, God! Show them how silly they look.