| But what makes us mad
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| Are the things that Joseph tells us of the
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| Dreams he’s often had
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| (Joseph)
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| I dreamed that in the fields one day
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| The corn gave me a sign
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| Your eleven sheaves of corn
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| All turned and bowed to mine
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| My sheaf was quit a sight to see
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| A golden sheaf and tall
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| Yours were green and second-rate
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| And really rather small
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| (Brothers)
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| This is not the kind of thing
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| We brothers like to hear
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| It seems to us that Joseph and his
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| Dreams should disappear
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| (Joseph)
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| I dreamed I saw eleven stars
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| The sun the moon and sky
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| Bowing down before my star,
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| It made me wonder why
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| Could it be that I was born
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| For higher things than you?
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| A post in someone’s government
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| A ministry or two
|
| (Brothers)
|
| The dreams of our dear brother are
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| The decade’s biggest yawn
|
| His talk of stars and golden sheaves
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| Is just a load of corn
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| Not only is he tactless but
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| He’s also rather dim
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| For there’s eleven of us and
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| There’s only one of him
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| The dreams of course will not come true
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| That is, we think they won’t come true
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| That is, we hope they won’t come true
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| What if he’s right all along?
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| The dreams are more than crystal clear
|
| The writing on the wall
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| Means that Joseph some day soon
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| Will rise above us all
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| The accuracy of the dreams
|
| We brothers do not know
|
| But one thing we are sure about
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| The dreamer has to go |