Dear Mr. President, I am writing this letter to your person to describe a wonderfulment opportunity in the country state of Nigeria

I hate Pink. Not the colour. I don't mind the colour, especially when it's bacon. I'm talkin' the singer. I realise she's a pop artist, so we shouldn't really hold her stuff to a very high standard. And I'm not one of those music elitist dickheads, because, after all, I like Bon Jovi.

And my main problem with her isn't so much the music, it's just that it's completely unescapable. I listen only to Triple M, because Triple J shits me and all the other radio stations are for chicks, and even THEY play her.

Cindy Brady: Coke whore

But her latest single 'Dear Mr. President' is a whole other story. You know those really good political songs? Sunday Bloody Sunday? That WIT DER TANKS AND DERR BOMBS AND DERR BOMBS one by The Cranberries? How you knew they were singing about the IRA but it was ok, because it wasn't blatant and the song was good?

This isn't that. This is to political expression what the 'No More Fat Chicks' T-Shirt is to the anorexia debate. Here are some lyrics....

Dear Mr. President,
were you a lonely boy?
are you a lonely boy?
How can you say, no child is left behind?
We're not dumb and we're not blind
They're all sitting in your cells
when you pave the road to hell

'Cell' and 'hell'. 'hind' and 'blind'. 'Boy' and 'boy'. Pink, you are a lyrical genius.

What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away?
What kind of father might hate his own daugther if she were gay?
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You've come a long way, from whiskey and cocaine

Dayymmn, bitch be droppin' bombs. Callback to Bush's druggo days, before he "found Jesus"/"wanted to get elected in America". And rhyming 'say' with 'cocaine', it's brilliant. Because the sounds don't actually rhyme, so it's like you're showing Bush that cocaine is wrong because you're a fucking awful songwriter. Deep.

And my favourite bit...

Let me tell you about hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you about hard work
Hard work, hard work, you don't know nothing about hard work
Hard work, hard work

I'm sure Pink works very hard trying to not rhyme 'box' with 'work'. I'm sure it takes hours to say 'You know what, I think I might say hard work twice in this line'. I'm not so sure it compares with running the world's greatest superpower.

But don't just take my word on the song. Here's a fan's thoughts, from our old friend songmeanings.net.



Yes, PunkRockPrincess44, she certainly does have the balls.