Here is my iris, here is my thumb.
I am on the A2 to Dover,
flashing my plastic. This is me
and that is you. I have been clocked
at 52 years, 8 months and a few minute
details. You are a car thief,
and here's a policeman, you can tell
by his electronic eye. He'll want
your chassis number, how long you intend
to stop in his cell. Watch for
his flash harry look: it'll cost you
three hundred quid. No change.
Ask him his name, his rank
and his serial number. Yes, officer,
really, at that speed? I hadn't realised
how quick you could nick
my existence. Swipe me, it's a
flash card. This is a car thief, we were
hoping for highway patrol,
to pinch your panda. This is me,
three hundred quid's worth:
this is how we both know that we
live in a free country. Flash.