Enviar corrección: Frankly, mr. shankly - The smiths

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Frankly, mr. shankly, this position i&#39;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&#39;m a sickening wreck
i&#39;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&#39;d rather be famous
than righteous or holy, any day
any day, any day

but sometimes i&#39;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&#39;ve held
it pays my way and it corrodes my soul
oh, i didn&#39;t realise that you wrote poetry
i didn&#39;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

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