I shall cut from the face of the land
all the men and the beasts and the birds
and the fish will be gone from the sea
my hand will fall on the King's children,
the ones in our enemies' clothes
who have turned their faces from me
a mournful cry from the gate,
a crashing in the hills,
those who dwell in the marketplace all screaming
they shall build houses but not live in them,
they shall plant grapes but not drink of them