| Well, the door it opened slowly
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| 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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| And 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.»
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| So we started up the mountain
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| I was running, he was walking
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| And his axe was made of burning gold
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| Well, the trees they got much smaller
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| Yes, the lake a lady’s mirror
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| When 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
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| But it might have been a vulture
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| 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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| I guess he knew I would not hide
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| You who build these altars now
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| To sacrifice our children
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| You must not do it anymore
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| A scheme is not a vision
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| And you never have been tempted
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| By a demon or a god
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| You who stand above them now
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| Your hatchets blunt and bloody
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| You were not there before
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| When I lay upon a mountain
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| And my father’s hand was trembling
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| With the beauty, I mean the beauty of the word
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| And if you call me brother now
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| Forgive me but I must 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
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| I will help you if I can
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| When it all comes down to dust
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| I will help you if I must
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| I’ll kill you if I can
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| And mercy, mercy on our uniform
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| Man of peace, man of war
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| The peacock spreads his deadly fan |