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 Oh . 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 Oh . Fame, fame, fatal fame It can play hideous tricks on the brain But still I rather be famous Than righteous or holy Oh, 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 Oh . Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held It pays my way and it corrodes my soul Oh, I didn't realize that you wrote poеtry I didn't realize you wrote such fucking awful poеtry, Mr. Shankly Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you ask You are a flatulent pain the ass I do not mean to be so rude But still, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly Oh, give us money