practicalmeat47

We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things

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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

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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 ... read more