In Australia’s sunburnt land, they stand,
Politicians with a price tag in hand,
Promises flutter like leaves in the breeze,
Words like soft whispers, yet nothing to seize.
Chasing votes like a dog on the run,
Each speech a performance, a game, just for fun,
They barter integrity, cheapened and sold,
While the dreams of the people grow weary and old.
With dollar signs dancing in eyes glazed with greed,
They sow seeds of discord, not hope, but misdeed,
In the halls of power, the laughter rings true,
But the people are left to pay for the view.
Oh, the land of the fair go, where ideals should reside,
Yet here in the shadows, the honest have died,
For in this vast outback, where the wild winds blow,
Politicians are cheaper—by the dozen, don’t you know?
