Frankly, Mr. Shankly lyrics - Cursive

(originally by 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

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 poetry

I didn't realize you wrote such fucking awful poetry, 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