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Low Millions Lyrics
There’s a sign on my door
Says I’m not here when 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 her 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 her 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
Says I’m not here when I’ve gone
I’d feel better
Count me in
I’m one of the low millions
Like her like him
Just one of the low millions
There isn’t anybody else
That I can point to who I know
Who isn’t being torn by the undertow
I’d feel better
Count me in
I’m one of the low millions
Like her like him
Just one of the low millions
Fishing where the ice is thin
I’m holding it all up with safety pins
I’m sitting on nitroglycerin
I’d feel better
Count me in
I’m one of the low millions
Like her like him
Just one of the low millions
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
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This is about a guy (or girl) who seems to not be able to find love, no matter what. He looks around and sees other people being torn by the undertow of love, thus making neither scenario preferable to the other. The 'holding it up with safety pins' is a reference to trying to hold together an image that's not ultimately his, but is seen as a 'required' display.
"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.'"