Woke up this morning with a strange sense of dread
 Brewed my own coffee, made my own bed
 No breakfast laid out, no freshly baked bread
 I had a pop tart instead
 Fished through my closet to find a clean dress
 Nothing's been washed, the place is a mess, mmmmmmm
 Look for my limousine, once more it's not there
 I can't believe I'm not a millionaire

 Where is the room that hosts my shoes
 The snooty butler and private mews
 My invitation to Elton's bash
 But most of all, where is my cash? 
 Awwwwwwww 

 Dinner from Asda, no lobster in sight
 Marcella: Tears at the check out, this don't feel right
 And as I lug my bags up three flights of stairs,
 I can't believe I'm not a millionaire
 Aaah-uh
 I can't believe I'm not a millionaire
 Aaah-uh
 I can't believe I'm not a millionaire