An Open Letter To The Prime Minister Lyrics

An Open Letter To The Prime Minister lyrics

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