Australia Post-Modern Lyrics

How does it feel to have a culture that resists

Any form of sincerity and genuine bliss

Chop down the achievements of the working poor

A big brown land with a rotten core

Sand angels in the Nullarbor, cooked flesh barely raw

Tourist trap clap back sand worm mighty maw

Wolf Creek documents Australian mind

Hate the foreigner but keep their culture by your side I wish

we could go back to the VB Days

At least then we were honest about our visceral hate

Now every day we are welcomed and acknowledge our crimes

Before we hold our meetings to poison the earth for a dime

I'll never forget when QANTAS was an airline

I'll never forgive John Howard for his hairline

Find me dead on a Hills-Hoist Clothesline

Watch me swing eating a Golden Gaytime

Climbing Ayes Rock and getting thanked by an ancient tribe

No words can begin to describe

The horrific genealogy of our own reason and rhyme

Australia, stupid yet sublime

How could I bear to look at myself on the world stage

When all I've produced is genocide and a stagnant wage

A nation of convicts that follow the rules

yet act outraged when they get fed nothing but gruel

The big Merino

The big Galah

The Big Lobster

The Big Golden Guitar

The Big Easel

The Giant Prawn

So much to see and so little to adore