27 The churning inside me never stops;days of suffering confront me.
28 I go about blackened, but not by the sun;I stand up in the assembly and cry for help.
29 I have become a brother of jackals,a companion of owls.
30 My skin grows black and peels;my body burns with fever.
31 My lyre is tuned to mourning,and my pipe to the sound of wailing.