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