P.s. Millionaire Lyrics - Michael Penn

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?