July 10, 2019 - Brother Nathanael
05:45
| 
| Time | Text |
|---|---|
| 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 of the Lord, strong and holy. | |
| I must do what I've been told. | |
| So he 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 laid his mirror. | |
| We stopped to drink some wine. | |
| And 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 your altars now to sacrifice these children, you must not do it anymore. | |
| you Your scheme is not a vision. | |
| You've only been tempted by demons or your gods. | |
| 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 of the word But you have no part in And if you call me brother now Forgive me if I inquire Just according to whose plan When it all comes down to dust, they will kill you if they must. | |
| I will help you if I can. | |
| When it all comes down to dust, I will help you if I must. | |
| They will kill you when they can. | |
| Have mercy on our uniform, man of peace or man of war. | |
| The peacock spritz is banned. | |
| When it comes to dust, all the dead | |
| will rise, some to life | |
| and some to everlasting shame. | |
| Yay! | |
| you The future brings Both to kings and queens there will be a reckoning. | |
| Let all your schemes, like a demon's whore, Mist falls on eyes while phantoms climb. | |
| The darkness grows And the clock will chime A settling of the score You who build your altars now And think your plans won't end The wind will blow. | |
| The branches bend. | |
| You will reap what you have sown When I was on the mount | |
| A lamb took my place, but you will give an account out. | |
| I'm sorry. | |
| It's coming. |
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