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 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 the arse
I do not mean to be so rude
But still, I must speak frankly, Mr Shankly, give us money
Top The Smiths songs
- Ask
- This Charming Man
- Suedehead (Morrissey not The Smiths).
- There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
- Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now
- The Boy With The Thorn In His Side
- What Difference Does It Make?
- Girlfriend In A Coma
- How Soon Is Now?
- Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me
- Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before
- I Started Something I Couldn't Finish
- Bigmouth Strikes Again
- Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want
- Girl Afraid