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

8 1998
dear mr minister,
to be honest, im kind of disgusted 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 feather for me to ruffle.
mr prime minister, im queasy every time i the newspaper.
i read about the new the country is demanding and whether our emblem
contain a southern cross or not and i cant believe its even worth
the discussion. i want to see a giant penis on our flag. i it made of
velvet and in glitter.
i a flag that is worthy of a solid burning.
i want to why isnt our prime minister a homosexual? i was personally
more interested in or not paul keating grabbed the queens arse
than any of the that you seem to be tackling. mr prime minster, why
do you wear black and grey? are you hiding something? are you
of us?
i cant believe there is a feather left for me to ruffle.
i want to know why are american accents all over my television 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 a black panther party?
is our bob dylan?
where is our warhol?
why do you make me sound a third rate allen ginsberg?
dont me.
what do you know about anyway.
why we learn anything in school? perhaps that was a sweeping
generalization but i just finished years of it and i know how to
your name but cannot be bothered to write it down.
why am i so ashamed of where i am i sit up all night watching
infomercials and parliamentary sessions and i cannot of one reason
to travel to canberra. i am waiting for you to wear pink. mr
minister, when are you going to give me a break?
i want to see you dancing in glee outside an islamic shrine, or
hard copy footage of you caught naughty things in kings cross, and i
to say i knew it right away!
why do you me?
every time i walk out the door, i think you have sent men to watch
me in unmarked cars. and i havent even 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 settled the aboriginal land right issue. ill up my
house right now, if you will put an end to this. we all know this
really our home. lets kidding around.
mr prime minister, mr hand is tired. i slept for five days, ive
been waiting up for reruns of good morning america and i you have
forgotten me.
did we become a colony?
mr minister, im restless.
mr minister, i dont like the state we are in, and im holding you
responsible.
friend,
benjamin lee