What wisdom flows from the dark side of the moon?

What sounds from incredible strings of bands?

As we stare at the Totnes moon

What white heat is in her hands?

The lunatic is still on the grass,

Eugene still sharpens his vengeful axe

You lock the door and hide the key

But he will find a way to pass.

Continue to climb the hill in your own way

But know you’ll never walk alone

Except in winters depths

The Totnes moon was there before you

Wending its light to Paul’s book shop

Edging the shadows of the Totnes narrows

Where carnivores eat tofu

So as to hide their shames

The busker singing out of tune

His guitar case so full, so soon

For him to buy his passage to

The dark side of the moon.


FGD. 2012-19