Michael Penn
P.s. Millionaire

You don't have to pay for any more

Of what I'm selling door to door!

I will demonstrate for free...

But each opportunity...

Always ends in an apology...

From the cue card that you read,

Tell me what you think I need

While you're burying the lead

And showing me the door.

There's people crying everywhere

From being left in such despair.

And they'd all expect for me to care,

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Sitting there behind a desk

(Very Greco-Romanesque)

And I'm bringing out the guns

Battling the evil ones.

Well I used to fly, the clouds below

But my superpower's running low.

Shoot the moon and gasp for air.

Miracles don't have a prayer!

The weatherman says freak for rare

And gives the highs and lows.

I'm damaged way beyond repair.

It's too much pressure brought to bear.

Who wants to take this on a dare?

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Babe, I'm getting back in line.

On the nickel, on the dime.

'Cause I just don't have the heart to share

(I guess you stole that fair and square).

Climbing up the empire state.

The planes were grounded at the gate.

The sky's the limit. Celebrate.

You made it to the top

And the stars are everywhere;

Yasir Arafat to Cher.

Everyone who's won is there.

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Who wants to be a millionaire?


Mirror lyrics:

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Everyone who's won is there.

Yasir Arafat to Cher.

And the stars are everywhere;

You made it to the top

The sky's the limit. Celebrate.

The planes were grounded at the gate.

Climbing up the empire state.

(I guess you stole that fair and square).

'Cause I just don't have the heart to share

On the nickel, on the dime.

Babe, I'm getting back in line.

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Who wants to take this on a dare?

It's too much pressure brought to bear.

I'm damaged way beyond repair.

And gives the highs and lows.

The weatherman says freak for rare

Miracles don't have a prayer!

Shoot the moon and gasp for air.

But my superpower's running low.

Well I used to fly, the clouds below

Battling the evil ones.

And I'm bringing out the guns

(Very Greco-Romanesque)

Sitting there behind a desk

Who wants to be a millionaire?

And they'd all expect for me to care,

From being left in such despair.

There's people crying everywhere

And showing me the door.

While you're burying the lead

Tell me what you think I need

From the cue card that you read,

Always ends in an apology...

But each opportunity...

I will demonstrate for free...

Of what I'm selling door to door!

You don't have to pay for any more


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