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On the day of our king, the princes made themselves sick with the heat of wine.
    He joined his hand with mockers.
For they have prepared their heart like an oven,
    while they lie in wait.
    Their baker sleeps all the night.
    In the morning it burns as a flaming fire.
They are all hot as an oven,
    and devour their judges.
All their kings have fallen.
    There is no one among them who calls to me.

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