The Story of Isaac by Leonard Cohen

The door it 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 what I’ve been told.
So we started up the mountain,
I was running, he was walking,
And his axe was made of gold.

Well, the trees they got much smaller,
The lake a lady’s mirror,
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,
He knew I would not hide.

You who build these altars now,
To sacrifice these 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 fathers hand was trembling
With the beauty of the Word.

And if you call me brother now,
Forgive me if I 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 will kill you if I can.
Have mercy on our uniform,
Man of peace or man of war,
The peacock spreads his fan.