Luyện nghe bài hát Open Letter to the Prime Minister (Previously Unreleased)

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