The Smiths Nowhere Fast

I’d like to drop my trousers to the world

I am a man of means (of slender means)

each household appliance

is like a new science in my town

and if the day came when I felt a

natural emotion

I’d get such a shock I’d probably jump

in the ocean

and when a train goes by

it’s such a sad sound

I’d like to drop my trousers to the Queen

every sensible child will know what this means

the poor and the needy

are selfish and greedy on her terms

and if the day came when I felt a

natural emotion

I’d get such a shock I’d probably jump

in the ocean

and when a train goes by

it’s such a sad sound

And when I’m lying in my bed

I think about life

and I think about death

and neither one particularly appeals to me

and if the day came when I felt a

natural emotion

I’d get such a shock I’d probably lie

in the middle of the street and die

I’d lie down and die

The Smiths Well I Wonder

Well I wonder

do you hear me when you sleep?

I hoarsely cry

Well I wonder

do you see me when we pass?

I half-die

Please keep me in mind

please keep me in mind

Gasping – but somehow still alive

this is the fierce last stand of all I am

Gasping – dying – but somehow still alive

this is the final stand of all I am

Please keep me in mind

The Smiths Frankly, Mr. Shankly

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’d 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 in the arse

I do not mean to be so rude

Still, I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly

Oh, give us money!