Summer of '67 at the Baltic Sea
sleeping in a big canvas tent
getting drunk all through a fortnight.

And the Freie Deutsche Jugend
all expected us to admire
the work of their fathers
at the drab fish-food plant outside Rostock
and a thoroughly organized social event.

The slick guy with the tie next to me
got a bit tired as hours passed by
without his detecting any interest whatsoever
for the future of the peace-loving peoples republic.

Later on; one sculpture park
outside Karl Marx-stadt
where Joe Stalins spirit
still was apparent
as gigantic columns
depicting steel-muscled workers
soared to the sky.

The wall?
- Never saw it, except on a
Floyd video many years later.

All through that beer-dazed trip
the tune I heard as the ferry
reached the German shore
stayed on my mind;

See Emily Play.

Joe Stalin and Syd Barrett never got acquainted.