(Tempo: Upbeat, Funky, 115 BPM) (Style: Female vocals, heavy slap bass, brass hits, and a rhythmic, sassy vocal delivery) (Intro) (Slap bass kicks in, tight and grooving) (Spoken, laughing) Oh, look at you, standing in the middle of your kingdom. Label maker in one hand, my sanity in the other. Hit it! (Brass explosion) (Verse 1) You got a color-coded storage bin for everything you steal Stacked up to the ceiling like your twisted little deals You took my circle of friends, put 'em on a high shelf And took my freedom, saved it all for yourself Yeah, you’re an organized hoarder of the lives you erase Got my family history packed away in a case You think you’re a collector, a connoisseur of control But baby, you just plastic-wrapped a piece of my soul! (Pre-Chorus) And the wildest part of the whole damn show? I’m still standing right here, letting the whistle blow You think you won a prize, got me under your thumb But I’m just front-row center watching you act dumb! (Chorus) Oh, you’re a certified, organized, pristine narcissist! Got my life in a spreadsheet, at the top of your list! But the joke is on you, honey, look at my face I’m a luxury item you can never replace! Keep hoarding your trophies, keep filing your wins But I’m still your friend just to see where it ends! Yeah, the joke's on you! (Horn hit) Ha! (Verse 2) You gotta alphabetize the way you gaslight the room Got a beautifully curated sense of your doom "Oh, look at my collection, aren't I so grand?" While you’re holding my freedom in your manicured hand You built a fortress of boxes, labels neat and precise But you forgot that a copycat can't match the price I’m watching you dust off the memories of me While I’m out in the open, entirely free! (Pre-Chorus) And the wildest part of the whole damn show? I’m still pulling up a chair, putting on a light show You think you took my world, made me small, made me numb But I’m just front-row center watching you act dumb! (Chorus) Oh, you’re a certified, organized, pristine narcissist! Got my life in a spreadsheet, at the top of your list! But the joke is on you, honey, look at my face I’m a luxury item you can never replace! Keep hoarding your trophies, keep filing your wins But I’m still your friend just to see where it ends! (Bridge) (Bass drops low, drums get tight, syncopated handclaps) Let’s look at the inventory, baby... Friends? Taken. (Check!) Family? Shaken. (Check!) My time? Wasted. (Check!) But my spirit? Untaken! You can’t box me up, you can’t put me on a shelf Go ahead and keep the clutter, I’ll just keep myself! (Sassy laugh) In fact, put that in bin number four! (Guitar & Horn Solo) (Super funky, high energy, letting the groove ride) (Chorus) Oh, you’re a certified, organized, pristine narcissist! (Oh, you know it!) Got my life in a spreadsheet, at the top of your list! But the joke is on you, honey, look at my face I’m a luxury item you can never replace! Keep hoarding your trophies, keep filing your wins But I’m still your friend just to see where it ends! (Outro) Yeah, I’m staying right here. Best seat in the house. Keep your labels, honey. You missed a spot on that box over there. The one labeled "My Last Damn Care." (Big final brass hit, bass pop, total silence) Joke's on you!
