Cradle to Grave

Documented at birth,
A number stamped on our girth.
Like a supermarket bar code,
By the State we are followed.

A certificate parades in black and white,
As carbon copies take flight.
We’re tracked through early life,
To make us immune from dis-ease and strife.

But Big Brother still keeps tabs,
From Social Security to secret labs?
Is this the land of the free?
Or are we being watched constantly?
To the State we must contribute,
Until we are deaf, blind and mute.

On the Internet, in the mall or Sierra,
We are trailed by yet another camera.
Criminals beware, but innocents fear,
As vigilance creeps much too near.
For the privacy we once deserved,
Is no longer carefully preserved.

At the match or even Town centre,
They’re recording every damn manoeuvre.
A disjointed record it seems,
But databases are integrating in their reams.
For a detailed picture They can now produce,
A Socio-Economic profile they can now deduce.

So when you spend out with your card,
You produce evidence that’s monetary and hard.
For Big Brother just gets bigger,
Just so someone can determine their figure.
Information to be turned into notes,
Mark their silent words, and these quotes.
For the price of Liberty we must pay,
If vigilance carries on this way!

27th June 1997

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