An open letter to the prime minister

An open letter to the prime minister Lyrics

[spoken]
8 March 1998
Dear Mr. Prime Minister,
To be honest, I'm kind of disgusted with the state of this country
And I am holding you directly responsible.
I've got no diseases, no obvious birthmarks
I'm not black, I'm not female,
Sure I'm Jewish, but basically I'm a straight white male
And I still can't understand why there is even a feather left for me to ruffle.
Mr. Prime Minister, I'm 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 can't believe it's 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 isn't 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 Minister, why do you always wear black and grey?
Are you hiding something?
Are you afraid of us?
I still can't 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 I'm 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 doesn't 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?
Don't answer me.
What do you know about poetry anyway.
Why don't 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 f**king 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 haven't even done anything. yet.
Mr. Prime Minister, I'm as ready as you are.
Get me some glamour, Mr. Prime Minister, some escapism.
I want to know why we still haven't settled the aboriginal land right issue.
I'll give up my house right now, if you will put an end to this.
We all know this isn't really our home.
Let's stop kidding around.
Mr. Prime Minister, my hand is tired.
I havent slept for five days, I've 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, I'm restless.
Mr. Prime Minister, I don't like the state we are in
And I'm holding you directly responsible.
Your friend,
Benjamin Michael Lee