Peter Hammill - Pompeii Lyrics
The golden dream, the seat of all decorum,a satellite to match the light of Rome:its silver children chatter in the Forum,the bath-house, and the brothels, and their homesabout the latest fashions for their clothes.Across the Tyrrhenian Sea comes driftinga song that none of them have ever known.The golden dream that holds back all the hoursfor the ladies in their Dionysian rites,blonde heads all garlanded with flowers:wine and love and laughter through the nightin constant masque and pageant, constant flight.The ground below them whispers in a murmurof passion which is hotter yet than white.The golden dream, the city of all cities,its towers piercing into the azure sky,whose hand is dealt, regarless of all pity:condemned to martyrdom, but not to die.Two lovers look up from their hidden bower.The wine has stood too long and it turns sour.I see the tall and bending of your streetsbut now they echo only leather tourist feetand waking, ashen, grey-blue blinding death your sudden winding-sheet.--------------------------------------------------------------
