(A. Cohen & D. Singerson)
"Roll call. The confession of a self-professed, card-carrying member of the Low Millions, a group which, at any given moment, encompasses billions of individuals. The only prerequisite for membership in this fluctuating club is feeling down, whether you've stubbed your toe, lost your job, or your wife just walked out for good. In this instance, the question is not, 'Who are the Low Millions,' but rather, 'Who among us is not one of the Low Millions.'"

There's a sign on my door
says I'm not here anymore
Cause I've been missing for so long
I can't remember where I've gone

I wish to hell that I could cry
I'd feel better
Count me in
I'm one of the Low Millions
Like her like him
Just one of the Low Millions

I'm disconnected to myself
There isn't anybody else that I can
Point to who I know
Who isn't being torn by the undertow

I wish to hell that I could cry
I'd feel better
Count me in
I'm one of the Low Millions
Like here like him
Just one of the Low Millions

I'm an alien in my own skin
Fishing where the ice is thin
I'm holding it all up with safety pins
I'm sitting on nitroglycerin

I wish to hell that I could cry
I'd feel better
Count me in
I'm one of the Low Millions
Like here like him
Just one of the Low Millions

I'm an alien in my own skin
Fishing where the ice is thin
I'm holding it all up with safety pins
I'm sitting on nitroglycerin
And I
I'm one of the Low Millions
Looking down

Produced by Patrick Leonard
(p) & © 2004 Manhattan Records. Manufactured and distributed by Angel Records, 150 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10011. Unauthorized reproduction is a violation of applicable laws. All rights reserved. Printed in the USA. www.manhattanrecords.com