(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?