| Oh my father, I am Joseph,
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| one who walks upon the earth.
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| I am hated by my brothers,
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| they throw stones and spiteful words.
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| They have robbed me of my vineyards
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| and have set my fields afire.
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| They would rather see me hanging as a saint
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| than by their side
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| for I saw eleven stars, the sun and the moon
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| kneeling before me, my lord.
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| Oh my father, I am Joseph
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| just the way you had me made.
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| Heaven’s birds rest on my shoulders
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| and the wheat bows my way.
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| And for being like you made me
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| they have thrown me in the well.
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| For the dreams that I’ve had lately
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| seem too real not to tell
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| that I saw eleven stars the sun and the moon,
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| kneeling before me, my lord.
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| What did I ever do? |
| Did I displease you?
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| What have I got into and why me?
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| Tell me what have I done? |
| Did I upset you?
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| Did I do someone wrong when I said… |