Luyện nghe bài hát An Open Letter To The Prime Minister

8 1998
mr prime minister,
to be honest, im kind of disgusted with the state of country and i am
you directly responsible.
ive got no diseases, no birthmarks, im not black, im not female,
sure im jewish, but basically im a straight male, and i still cant
understand why there is a feather left for me to ruffle.
mr prime minister, im queasy every time i the newspaper.
i read about the new flag the country is demanding and whether our
contain a southern cross or not and i cant believe its even worth
the discussion. i want to see a penis on our flag. i want it made of
velvet and in glitter.
i want a that is worthy of a solid burning.
i want to know why isnt our prime minister a i was personally
more in whether or not paul keating grabbed the queens arse
than any of the issues that you seem to be tackling. mr minster, why
do you always wear black and grey? are you something? are you
of us?
i cant believe there is a feather left for me to ruffle.
i to know why there are american accents all over my television set.
as far as im concerned, "kant" is a philosopher. why do all
australian rock sing in american accents? why are there no
rock musicians?
mr prime minister, why doesnt australia a black panther party?
where is our bob
where is our andy
why do you make me sound like a third allen ginsberg?
dont me.
what do you about poetry anyway.
why dont we learn in school? perhaps that was a sweeping
generalization but i just finished years of it and i know how to
spell your name but cannot be bothered to it down.
why am i so ashamed of i am from? i sit up all night watching
infomercials and parliamentary sessions and i cannot think of one
to travel to canberra. i am waiting for you to pink. mr prime
minister, are you going to give me a fucking break?
i want to see you in spastic glee outside an islamic shrine, or
hard footage of you caught doing naughty things in kings cross, and i
want to say "i knew it away!"
why do you me?
every time i walk out the front door, i think you have men to watch
me in unmarked cars. and i havent even anything. yet.
mr minister, im as ready as you are.
get me some glamour, mr prime minister, some escapism. i to know why
we still havent settled the aboriginal land right issue. ill up my
house right now, if you will put an end to this. we all know isnt
our home. lets stop kidding around.
mr prime minister, mr hand is tired. i slept for five days, ive
been waiting up for reruns of good america and i think you have
about me.
when did we a colony?
mr minister, im restless.
mr prime minister, i dont the state we are in, and im holding you
responsible.
friend,
benjamin lee