A good song.

How miserable I am
I feel like the fruitpicker who arrived here
after the harvest
There's nothing here at all
Nothin at all that could placate my hunger

The godly people are all gone
There's not one honest soul left on this planet
We're all murders and theives
Setting traps here for even our brothers

And both of our hands
Are equally skilled
At doing evil
Equally skilled
At bribing the judges
Equally skilled
At perverting justice
Both of our hands
Both of our hands

The day of justice comes
And is even now swiftly coming
Don't trust anyone at all
Not your best friend or even your wife

For the son hates the father
The daughter despises even the mother
Look! Your enemies are right
Right in the room of your very household

And both of their hands are equally skilled
Equally skilled

No, don't gloat over me
For though I fall, though I fall
I will rise again

Though I sit here in darkness
The Lord, the Lord alone
He will be my light

I will be patient as the Lord
Punishes me for the wrongs
I've done against him

After that he'll take my case
Bringing me to light and to justice
For all I have suffered

And both of his hand are equally skilled
Equally skilled

Jon Foreman - Equally Skilled