Lyrics Frankly Mr. Shankly - Tre Allegri Ragazzi Morti , Owen

Frankly, M.r 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 twentyfirst century breathing down my neck
I must move fast, you understand me
I want to go down in celluloid history
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
I didn't realise that you wrote poetry
I didn't realise you wrote such awful poetry
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you ask
You are a flatulent pain my ass
I didn't mean to be so rude
But still, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly
Oh, give us your money