"Frustrated Gangster" as written by and Laurence Paul Hardy John Andrew....
My remedies are back room philosophies
Some protection from the passive brigades
The Italians have a word for it
But I don's speak a single word of it

Work, work, work That's no way to make a living
Meanwhile, back in the real world

You and I must agree to disagree
So say your piece then leave me in mine
I'll step aside when they throw the book at me
They'll hang themselves with their party lines

Work, work, work That's no way to make a living
Meanwhile back in the real world

I'll skin alive the next man who says I will
Stop at nothing to get all the way
I'd recomend a good undertaker
And of course a nice Beaujolais

Work, work, work That's no way to make a living
Meanwhile back in the real world

You can't breathe without complications
Money is the mother tongue
I think at heart I'm a frustrated gangster
Who can't raise enough money for a gun

Work, work, work That's no way to make a living
Meanwhile back in the real world
Who wants the real world......


Lyrics submitted by enola

Frustrated Gangster song meanings
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