Melancholy moon comes up
over the panorama of Postead church Graveyard
the sky seems to touch the headstones like lovers kissing
I walk here now among the summer rays and autumn leaves
I am intruding into the sleeping souls who know the "Grand Secret”
the grand secret of time space eternity and beyond
The Distance noise, of the ghettoblaster
hatred, hatred of all that is good,
each time I come here the volume gets louder,
new age dirt spread on everything
sometimes I think I hear the distant rattle of a train,
soon it will be, the last train to Sudbury,
but, for now I am a scarecrow,
in Polstead church graveyard.