Frankly Mr. Shylock

The blog entry in which I take classic Smith lyrics and change them around to suit my needs.

Frankly, Mr. Shylock, this position I've held
It doesn't pay my way, and you corrode my soul
I want you to leave, we will not miss you
We want to go down in celluloid history

Frankly, Mr. Shylock, I'm a sickening wreck
I've got the 21st century breathing down my neck
We must move fast, you understand me
We want to go down in celluloid history, Mr. Shylock


Fame, Fame, fatal Fame
It can play hideous tricks on the brain
But still you'd rather be Rich
Than righteous or holy, any day
Any day, any day


But sometimes I'd feel more fulfilled
Writing my stories about the human will
I want to live and I want to Love
I want to catch something that I might be ashamed of


Frankly, Mr. Shylock, this position I've held
It doesn't pay my way and you corrode my soul
Oh, I didn't realise that you liked young girls
I didn't realise you liked such bloody awful girls, Mr. Shylock


Frankly, Mr. Shylock, since you ask
You are a useless pain in the arse
I do not mean to be so rude
Still, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shylock

Oh, give us your money ! (please)