1. For the music director, on the eight-string lyre, a psalm of David.
2. Help, Adonai! For no one godly exists. For the faithful have vanished from the children of men.
3. Everyone tells a lie to his neighbor, talking with flattering lips and a divided heart.
4. May Adonai cut off all flattering lips— a tongue bragging big things.
5. They say: “With our tongue we’ll prevail. We own our lips—who can master us?”