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• Artiste: Valley Maker
• Titre: Joseph
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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Man of dreams, are you as you seem? Are you the chosen one? The beloved son? Binding sheaves, you were released. And you were lifted high above your brother's eyes. But oh, no, they don't want to give you that. They know you are of a mind to act. The favor of old is like a robe of gold, and you'll learn how to lose what you hold. Another dream: this time you've seen that you're the king of the sky, the Sun and Moon know why. Eleven stars know who they are, but they will not comply. With hatred in their eyes, they'll throw you down into a well to die. Jealous, they were carrying their line. Covered your robe in the blood of a goat, and you'll learn that you reap what you sow. Sold as a slave, well on your way to the good life. Handsome and stayed, you caught the eye of a good wife. You ran away, but you left your clothes for a good lie. Who are your friends, and what are your sins, that you should die? Back in the hole, you have been told of a budding vine. Grapes are in supply. Another friend, the Baker, has dreamt of cakes piled on his head, but then the birds flew in. In three days Pharoah now is gonna lift you high. But you'll hang. Birds will eat you alive. In due time, he will need your mind, and you'll learn what you hold is a gift. Out of the Nile, seven cows. They are in their prime: Food is in supply. Seven again, hungry and thin: to eat the fat alive, to eat a troubled mind. Pharoah now is gonna pull you out. He hopes you are of a magic mouth. The story you told is worth a ring of gold. And you know that you are not your own. The one who was sold is the promise of old. Though you have not a home, you abide.