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

8 March
dear mr 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,
im jewish, but basically im a straight white male, and i still cant
understand why there is a feather left for me to ruffle.
mr minister, im queasy every time i read 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 giant penis on our flag. i want it of
and encased in glitter.
i want a flag that is worthy of a burning.
i to know why isnt our prime minister a homosexual? i was personally
more interested in whether or not paul keating 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 there are american all over my television set.
as far as im concerned, kant is a philosopher. why do all
australian musicians sing in american accents? why are there no
rock musicians?
mr minister, why doesnt australia have a black panther party?
where is our bob
where is our andy
why do you me sound like a third rate allen ginsberg?
dont me.
what do you about poetry anyway.
why dont we learn anything in perhaps that was a sweeping
generalization but i just finished years of it and i know how to
spell your name but be bothered to write it down.
why am i so ashamed of where i am from? i sit up all night
infomercials and parliamentary sessions and i cannot of one reason
to travel to canberra. i am for you to wear pink. mr prime
minister, when are you going to give me a fucking
i want to see you dancing in spastic outside an islamic shrine, or
hard footage of you caught doing naughty things in kings cross, and i
to say i knew it right away!
why do you me?
every time i walk out the front door, i think you have sent men to
me in unmarked cars. and i havent done anything. yet.
mr prime minister, im as as you are.
get me some glamour, mr prime minister, some escapism. i want to why
we still havent settled the aboriginal right issue. ill give up my
house right now, if you will put an end to this. we all this isnt
really our home. 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
forgotten me.
when did we a colony?
mr minister, im restless.
mr prime minister, i dont like the state we are in, and im you
responsible.
friend,
michael lee