The door had opened slowly,
my father he came in, I was nine years old
And he stood so tall above me, 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 as I've been told.
So he started up the mountain, I was running,
he was walking, and his axe was made of gold.
The trees, got much smaller, like a lady's mirror,
we stopped and drank some wine.
Then he threw the bottle over, broke a minute later,
and he put his hand on mine.
I thought I saw an eagle, but it might have been a vulture,
I never could decide.
Then my father built an altar, looked once behind his shoulder,
he knew I would not hide.
You who build these altars now, to sacrifice these children,
you must not do it anymore.
For a scheme is not a vision,
an d you never have been tempted by a demon or a god.
You stand above them now, your hatchet's blunt and bloody,
you were not there before.
When I lay upon the mountain,
my father's hand was trembling, with the beauty of the
word.
And if you call me brother now,
forgive me if I inquire just according to who's 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 will kill you if I can.
Have mercy on our uniform, man of peace or man of war,
peacock spreads his fan.
You