Alo lola

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  • Publicado : 25 de mayo de 2011
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rankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've heldIt pays my way, and it corrodes my soul
I want to leave, you will not miss meI want to go down in musical history
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, I'm a sickeningwreckI've got the 21st century breathing down my neckI must move fast, you understand meI want to go down in celluloid history, Mr. Shankly
Fame, Fame, fatal FameIt can play hideous tricks on thebrainBut still I'd rather be FamousThan righteous or holy, any dayAny day, any day
But sometimes I'd feel more fulfilledMaking Christmas cards with the mentally illI want to live and I want to LoveI wantto catch something that I might be ashamed of
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've heldIt pays my way and it corrodes my soulOh, I didn't realise that you wrote poetryI didn't realise you wrotesuch bloody awful poetry, Mr. Shankly
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you askYou are a flatulent pain in the arseI do not mean to be so rudeStill, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly
Oh, give us yourmoney !
rankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've heldIt pays my way, and it corrodes my soul
I want to leave, you will not miss meI want to go down in musical history
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, I'm asickening wreckI've got the 21st century breathing down my neckI must move fast, you understand meI want to go down in celluloid history, Mr. Shankly
Fame, Fame, fatal FameIt can play hideous tricks on thebrainBut still I'd rather be FamousThan righteous or holy, any dayAny day, any day
But sometimes I'd feel more fulfilledMaking Christmas cards with the mentally illI want to live and I want to LoveIwant to catch something that I might be ashamed of
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've heldIt pays my way and it corrodes my soulOh, I didn't realise that you wrote poetryI didn't realise youwrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr. Shankly
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you askYou are a flatulent pain in the arseI do not mean to be so rudeStill, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly
Oh, give us...
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