3 So I had to inherit months of worthlessness, and nights of misery are apportioned to me.
4 When I lie down, I say, ‘When shall I rise?’ But the night is long, and I have my fill of tossing until dawn.
5 My body is clothed with maggots and clods of dust; my skin hardens, then it gives way again.
6 “My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and they come to an end without hope.
7 Remember that my life is a breath; my eye will not return to see good.
8 The eye of the one seeing me will not see me; your eyes are upon me, but I will be gone.
9 A cloud vanishes, and it goes away, so he who goes down to Sheol will not come up.