Frankly, Mr Shankly Lyrics - The Queen Is Dead - The Smiths

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 twenty-first 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 realize that you wrote poetry 

I didn't realize you wrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr. Shankly 

Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you ask 

You are a flatulent pain in the ass 

I do not mean to be so rude 

Still, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly 

Oh, give us your money