Van der Graaf Generator - Emperor In His War Room Lyrics

i. THE EMPEROR
Standing in the space that holds the silent
lace of night

away from you
You think that you can hold the searing,
moulten gold between

your fingers ...
But it slips through, tearing tendons as
it goes,
exposing the white of a knuckle ...
flesh-and-metal forming letters in the mould.
Cradling
you gun, after choosing the ones you think should die-
Lying on the hill ... crawling over the windowsill into
your

living-room
They stare out, glass-eyed aimless heads,
bodies torn by vultures ..
you are the man whose hands
are rank with the smell of death.
Saviour of the Fallen,
Protector of the Weak,
Friend of the Tall Ones, Keeper of
the Peace ...
Ah, but it is the only way you know
.....
Looking out to sea, a flattened plane of weeds which
bear no living
You crush life in your fist as your heart is
kissed by the lips

of death
Ghosts betray you, ghosts betray you, in the
night they steal your eye
from its socket ...
and the
ball hangs fallen on your cheek.
Complaining tongues are
stilled; a thousand mouths are filled

with rusting metal.
Your face a shade of
green; somehow you try to speak through all the

garbage in your mouth
But it
won't come out, and you cannot frame the words
as your
stepson
throws your fame into the flames and you are
burned.
Saviour of the Fallen, Protector of the Weak,
Friend of the Tall Ones, Keeper of the Peace.
Ah,
but it is the only way you know ..........
ii. THE ROOM
Live by sword and you shall die so,
All your power shall
come to nought,
every life you take is part of your own,
death, not power, is what you've bought.
Cringing in
your room as the outriders of doom step

on your threshold;
Begging for your life as
the impartial knife sinks in your

screaming flesh ...
without malice, merely taking
murder's toll,
you must pay the price of hate, and
that price is
your soul
....
Live in peace or die forever in your war-room

i. THE EMPEROR
Standing in the space that holds the silent
lace of night

away from you
You think that you can hold the searing,
moulten gold between

your fingers ...
But it slips through, tearing tendons as
it goes,
exposing the white of a knuckle ...
flesh-and-metal forming letters in the mould.
Cradling
you gun, after choosing the ones you think should die-
Lying on the hill ... crawling over the windowsill into
your

living-room
They stare out, glass-eyed aimless heads,
bodies torn by vultures ..
you are the man whose hands
are rank with the smell of death.
Saviour of the Fallen,
Protector of the Weak,
Friend of the Tall Ones, Keeper of
the Peace ...
Ah, but it is the only way you know
.....
Looking out to sea, a flattened plane of weeds which
bear no living
You crush life in your fist as your heart is
kissed by the lips

of death
Ghosts betray you, ghosts betray you, in the
night they steal your eye
from its socket ...
and the
ball hangs fallen on your cheek.
Complaining tongues are
stilled; a thousand mouths are filled

with rusting metal.
Your face a shade of
green; somehow you try to speak through all the

garbage in your mouth
But it
won't come out, and you cannot frame the words
as your
stepson
throws your fame into the flames and you are
burned.
Saviour of the Fallen, Protector of the Weak,
Friend of the Tall Ones, Keeper of the Peace.
Ah,
but it is the only way you know ..........
ii. THE ROOM
Live by sword and you shall die so,
All your power shall
come to nought,
every life you take is part of your own,
death, not power, is what you've bought.
Cringing in
your room as the outriders of doom step

on your threshold;
Begging for your life as
the impartial knife sinks in your

screaming flesh ...
without malice, merely taking
murder's toll,
you must pay the price of hate, and
that price is
your soul
....
Live in peace or die forever in your war-room