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This Was Pompeii
I am thinking about the woman in a century of peace,
On a bright mosaic she is washing on her knees,
And she looks up at the black sky beyond the mountain tall,
She says, ";Oh good, the rain is finally going to fall today.";
This was Pompeii
And everyone has memories of the night that melted stone,
The neighbor's nightgown, the screaming on the phone,
And the tired man at the station says, ";We can't tell who's alive,
All we ever know is that the tourists survive.";
";Tra la, tra la,"; they say, they say,
";Let's Go Pompeii.";
And I think about Pompeii when I feel an end is near,
Just before the rain and eveyr time you disappear,
And I think about a teacup, suspended and half served,
And all the scholars know is that it's perfectly preserved.
";Oh, oh,"; that's all, they say,
";This was Pompeii.";
And as for my on kingdom, not a table leg was charred,
I simply lost my kingdom, 'cause I held it much too hard,
Once I had a sadness, the sadness turned to trust,
The trust turned into ashes and to lawyers and dust,
A century, a day,
This was Pompeii.
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