Land of Poor Chance - Hataalii

(Going around in circles baby) (And I don't care where I go) I know, I'm going around in circles baby You know, I'm going around in circles Here I go And I don't care where you go I know, I'm going around in circles baby You know I'm going around in circles March 2nd, I was cursed I never felt felt my body hurt I'ma end up in a hearse By March 21st I know, I'm going around in circles baby You know, I'm going around in circles baby I wanna kill myself But I'm too big of a coward I have no self control I have no power You know, I'm going around in circles baby I know, I'm going around in circles baby I owe the government hella cash And I can't get it hella fast They 'gon take it out of my account And I'ma die broke I know, I'm going around in circles baby You know, I'm going around in circles baby I'ma die a broke man Not a cent in my hand 'Cause life ain't fair All kids beware You know, I'm going around in circles baby I know, I'm going around in circles baby I never met another one (Never met another one) And my face 'gon meet this gun (I don't care) And I don't care where I go And I don't care where you from Give me a sign

Next day, far from home The brothers planned the repulsive crime (Let us grab him now) (Do him in, while we've got the time) This they did, and made the most of it Tore his coat and flung him in pit (Let us leave him here) (All alone, and bound to die) When some Ishmaelites A hairy crew, came riding by In a flash, the brothers changed their plan (We need cash, let's sell him if we can) Poor, poor Joseph—whatcha gonna do? Things look bad for you, hey—whatcha gonna do? Poor, poor Joseph—whatcha gonna do? Things look bad for you, hey—whatcha gonna do? Could you use a slave You hairy bunch of Ishmaelites? Young, strong, well-behaved Going cheap, and he reads and writes In a trice, the dirty deal was done Silver coins for Jacob's favorite son Then the Ishmaelites galloped off with a slave in tow Off to Egypt where Joseph was not keen to go It wouldn't be a picnic he could tell (And I don't speak Egyptian very well) Joseph's brothers tore his precious multicolored coat Having ripped it up, they next attacked a passing goat Soon the wretched creature was no more They dipped his coat in blood and guts and gore Oh now, brothers—how low can you stoop? You make a sordid group, hey—how low can you stoop? Poor, poor Joseph—sold to be a slave Situation's grave, hey—sold to be a slave