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 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 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 Realise That You Wrote Poetry
I Didn't Realise You Wrote Such Bloody Awful Poetry Mr Shankly
Frankly, Mr Shankly, Since You Ask
You Are A Flatulent Pain The Arse
I Do Not Mean To Be So Rude
But Still, I Must Speak Frankly, Mr Shankly, Give Us Money