The Story of Isaac

Well, the door it opened slowly, My father he came in, I was nine years old. And he stood so tall above me, And his blue eyes they were shining And his voice was very cold. He said, "I've had a vision And you know I'm strong and holy, I must do what I've been told." So we started up the mountain, I was running, he was walking, And his axe was made of burning gold. Well, the trees they got much smaller, Yes, the lake a lady's mirror When we stopped to drink some wine. Then he threw the bottle over, Broke a minute later And he put his hand on mine. Thought I saw an eagle But it might have been a vulture, I never could decide. Then my father built an altar, He looked once behind his shoulder, I guess he knew I would not hide. You who build these altars now To sacrifice our children, You must not do it anymore. A scheme is not a vision And you never have been tempted By a demon or a god. You who stand above them now, Your hatchets blunt and bloody, You were not there before. When I lay upon a mountain And my father's hand was trembling With the beauty, I mean the beauty of the word. And if you call me brother now, Forgive me but I must inquire, "Just according to whose plan?" When it all comes down to dust I will kill you if I must, I will help you if I can. When it all comes down to dust I will help you if I must, I'll kill you if I can. And mercy, mercy on our uniform, Man of peace, man of war, The peacock spreads his deadly fan.