Is there life on other planets
and if there is should we not ban it?
Is there death upon Mallorca
as discreet as their streetwalkers?
Don’t you want to go to heaven
in a Boeing 737?
You with visionary eye of laser
drinking up your cheap cerveza
dancing with a transvestite
(how you kissed and held him tight).
You’ve got to get your pocket singed
on a crazy three day binge.
Oh the sunshine oh the moonshine
Oh the great white shine machine
‘You like Senor, your head she’s sore?
Next year you come back for more?
Mephistopheles you say
Your amigo, he left yesterday.’

Franz Kafka where are you now?
You were a clown, a barrel of laughs,
the perfect non-worrier
after being accused of murder
you talked of cucumbers
while you opened fetes
you were a great wit,
you were even a person.

Meanwhile somewhere in Britain
True paranoia purses its lips
sucks on the wrong end of a biro
puts on the uniform of the boys in blue
from the inside
(it’s always an inside job)
Franz, Franz where did you go?