You're like Abraham,
the most holy man
and I am but your son
(It's 12am and I'm f*cking done)

You told me to trust you
should have known that it wasn't true
before I was tied to the altar
(Your knife never faltered)

You led me here; kept me alive
the whole time you were planning my demise
My own mother, my own father
(Was I that much of a bother?)

The wood on the altar you built
was ready for my blood to be spilt
and the ropes I fetched from the tent -
(Why wasn't I more observant?)

You said the Lord had prepared a sacrifice
would have been a better son if I'd known I was on thin ice
I can't forget the ropes when there burns are still on my wrists
(I can't forget the way I steeled myself and clenched my fists)

You knife was cold against my naked frame
(I was exposed to the world, and you're to blame)