yeah, The Australians

<p><br />
we&rsquo;re Arabs without faith, we&rsquo;re Africans without rhythm,<br />
we&rsquo;re Americans afraid to tell the world we love ourselves.<br />
we&rsquo;re Brazilians who can&rsquo;t dance, we&rsquo;re Britons without eccentrities.<br />
we&rsquo;re Westminster in weekend clothes, capitalism counting loose change.<br />
we&rsquo;re modernism, decadence and soft colonialism.&nbsp; we don&rsquo;t believe in ideas, not on their own, though sometimes we try to prop up a flaky one with another.<br />
<br />
we&rsquo;re cities without history, we&rsquo;re small towns without a future,<br />
we&rsquo;re hobo clowns looking for any gag in seven-million kilometres of wilderness.<br />
<br />
we&rsquo;re born with a stamp of emptiness;<br />
we grow old and die still with emptiness to spare.<br />
<br />
we&rsquo;re Asians without tranquillity, Canadians without a memorable flag, passengers of any nation who forgot to get off the train and just kept on going.<br />
<br />
we hate ourselves but still we keep on going.&nbsp; keep the show on the road, eh, mate?<br />
<br />
we&rsquo;re dust and flies, we&rsquo;re mud and mosquitoes.&nbsp; we love our furry animals.&nbsp; at least the ones not yet driven to extinction.<br />
<br />
we&rsquo;re proud of something.&nbsp; can ya remember, Bluey?&nbsp; we&rsquo;re forty thousand years young and pissing it all away.<br />
<br />
<strong>yeah.&nbsp; we&rsquo;re the Australians, baby.</strong></p>