Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a silvery alien craft, And whilst he is wondering what to do He is asked to show his pass Or pay an instant one off fine At a cash dispenser of his choice And they are checking all time On his irises face and voice.
And of course they find that he is not, They discover he just cannot be there, Although he seems as if he is visible, And has hands and toes and hair, If he is not on Great Data Bank, He plainly and simply cannot be, He is not listed and he is not ranked He is surely not like you and me.
So they cant detain him in custody But they do not have to let him go He never ever happened, period So who can ever tell, or know. So on a lonely bench in quiet shade He sits alone and unremarked, Wondering what games they play, Against backdrop of park.
And so, are we just opposite, Are we all consigned to hidden files, Are machines deciding who we are, Where we live, and when we smile, Is nothing a certain and real fact, Unless computer correlated true, And should your dossier go into error, How can you prove, you are really you.
How do you verify yourself for a loan, If your ranking gets compromised, How do you overturn all their data, Making you a pariah in others eyes, You may hold letters of validity, They may grudgingly know its you, Unless their system grants absolution, There is nothing they can say or do.
So unless we are verifiable as sound, And our image assuages Superhal, No one will ever trust us again, No one will ever want to be our pal, But this is not like yesteryear, When a quick query cleared your name, Your questions are merely registered, And you just get told how to complain.
Complaints are collated and quantified, They are cross filed and referenced, You must never lose this number, And you must never take offence, You are continually adjourned, Or moved to yet another floor, In hope that you will falter, From all that has gone before.
Meanwhile youre mugged, not statistically, Contract MRSA, but its not on file, Your children cannot read or write, But their qualifications raise a smile, You always hit potholes that dont exist, To save waiting on trains that dont arrive, But whose flexitimes prove you missed, The only one late out of fifty five.
You cry out to be heard aloud, But echoes mock your voice, You cannot afford telephone, Cant bypass enforced menus of choice, Cannot contact a single human being, By department, name or reason, All this evolved like a dripping tap, Season upon big brother season.
Then one day walking in solitude, Your will to try nearly quenched, There is quiet of shady park, There is man upon bench, Who looks at you knowingly, And asks you if you ever read, And says Then I am Kafka, You Must Tell Me What You Need.