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 your money!
1 comment:
I have loved that song ever since Lori introduced me to it back in Tally. Hilarious. :)
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