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        Their dead bodies will be thrown out.
            A stench will rise from their corpses.
                Mountains will be red with their blood.
All the stars in the sky will rot.
    The heavens will be rolled up like a scroll.
    The stars will fall
    like leaves from a grapevine,
    like green figs from a fig tree.
When my sword is covered with blood in the heavens,
    it will fall on Edom
        and on the people I’ve claimed for destruction.

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