Certified mess

You call it “healing,” I call it lazy,

Warm compress in hand, life still crazy.

Counting inventory like it’s a life plan,

But can’t find your keys, your phone, or a man.

One dog to boss around, big deal, right?

Yet somehow Lily’s smarter than you at night.

Truck dust everywhere, dashboard cracked,

Your culinary skills? Burnt toast, never backtracked.

(Chorus)

Yeah, you’re a certified mess,

A walking checklist of hot stress.

Laughing at life while it laughs at you,

Even Lily’s side-eye knows what’s true.

You play chess? More like checkers in heels,

Every “strategy” exposed, no big deals.

(Verse 2)

Texting ghosts from 2002,

Still can’t adult, can’t pay a due.

Low-maintenance? More like no-maintenance,

Your life’s a sitcom, minus the penance.

Fake friends whisper, and you think it’s love,

Meanwhile, karma’s tailing you like a glove.

Puppy by your side, probably judging your taste,

Even she knows you’re a hot mess — with grace misplaced.

(Chorus)

Yeah, you’re a certified mess,

A walking checklist of hot stress.

Laughing at life while it laughs at you,

Even Lily’s side-eye knows what’s true.

You play chess? More like checkers in heels,

Every “strategy” exposed, no big deals.

(Bridge)

If sarcasm was currency, you’d be rich,

But reality hits harder than any glitch.

You burn your meals, your plans, your pride,

Lily’s just lucky she’s along for the ride.

(Outro)

So here’s the truth, no sugar, no jest,

You’re chaos incarnate, a mess at best.

But hey — own it, laugh, whatever, no shame,

At least your life’s entertaining — to everyone but your name.