The Smiths - Frankly, Mr. Shankly

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Frankly, Mr. Shankly

Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held
It pays my way, and it corrodes my soul
I want to leave, you will not miss me
I want to go down in musical history
 
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, I'm a sickening wreck
I've got the 21st century breathing down my neck
I must move fast, you understand me
I want to go down in celluloid history, Mr. Shankly
 
Fame, Fame, fatal Fame
It can play hideous tricks on the brain
But still I'd rather be Famous
Than righteous or holy, any day
Any day, any day
 
But sometimes I'd feel more fulfilled
Making Christmas cards with the mentally ill
I want to live and I want to Love
I want to catch something that I might be ashamed of
 
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held
It pays my way and it corrodes my soul
Oh, I didn't realise that you wrote poetry
I didn't realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr. Shankly
 
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you ask
You are a flatulent pain in the arse
I do not mean to be so rude
Still, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly
(Oh, give us money!)
 
danielavrasinecdanielavrasinec द्वारा सोम, 02/01/2012 - 20:47 को जमा किया गया
आख़िरी बार मंगल, 30/07/2019 - 17:38 को ayda.jonasayda.jonas द्वारा संपादित
धन्यवाद!1 बार धन्यवाद मिला

 

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