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

8 1998
mr prime minister,
to be honest, im kind of with the state of this country and i am
holding you responsible.
ive got no diseases, no birthmarks, im not black, im not female,
sure im jewish, but basically im a straight white male, and i still
understand why there is a feather left for me to ruffle.
mr prime minister, im queasy every time i the newspaper.
i read the new flag the country is demanding and whether our emblem
contain a southern cross or not and i cant believe its even worth
the discussion. i to see a giant penis on our flag. i want it made of
and encased in glitter.
i want a flag that is worthy of a burning.
i want to know why isnt our prime a homosexual? i was personally
more interested in whether or not paul keating grabbed the queens
than any of the issues that you seem to be tackling. mr minster, why
do you always wear and grey? are you hiding something? are you
of us?
i still 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, is a german philosopher. why do all
australian rock musicians sing in american why are there no
australian musicians?
mr prime minister, why doesnt australia have a panther party?
where is our bob
where is our warhol?
why do you make me sound like a third rate ginsberg?
dont me.
what do you know poetry anyway.
why dont we learn anything in school? perhaps was a sweeping
generalization but i just twelve years of it and i know how to
spell your name but cannot be to write it down.
why am i so ashamed of where i am from? i sit up all watching
infomercials and parliamentary and i cannot think of one reason
to travel to canberra. i am for you to wear pink. mr prime
minister, when are you going to me a fucking break?
i to see you dancing in spastic glee outside an islamic shrine, or
copy footage 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 out the front door, i think you have sent men to watch
me in cars. and i havent even done anything. yet.
mr prime minister, im as as you are.
get me some glamour, mr prime minister, 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
our home. lets stop kidding around.
mr prime minister, mr hand is tired. i slept for five days, ive
waiting up for reruns of good morning america and i think you have
forgotten me.
when did we become a
mr minister, im restless.
mr prime minister, i dont the state we are in, and im holding you
responsible.
friend,
benjamin lee