Lie on King,Inside Out JF(k(llc)) oy fish hat field of dreams MC

(To the tune of "Circle of Life" with a Jeff Foxworthy twist)

Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba…

(Here comes a government worker, Father…)

From the day you arrive on the planet,

And blinking step into the line,

If you wake up and your government says you're dead,

But you still gotta pay that fine-

You might be a redneck ghost if the IRS still finds you,

Even though your neighbor can't see you at all.

It's the circle of life,

And the rules don't stop,

If your name's on a list,

You're still getting that call!

Chorus:

It's the circle of life,

Where you're stuck in the system,

Invisible citizen,

But you still gotta sign!

If you're following laws that nobody can see,

But the DMV wants your license renewed,

Here's your sign!

Some say eat or be eaten,

Some say live and let live,

But if you're dead on paper and still get jury duty,

You might want to ask who's keeping the books.

If you're waiting four years for help,

While everyone says, "Not my place, not my job,"

Maybe humanity's out to lunch,

And you're just haunting the halls.

Chorus:

It's the circle of life,

And it moves us all,

Through despair and hope,

Through faith and love,

Till we find our place-

On the path unwinding,

In the circle,

The circle of life!

So if you wake up invisible,

But your bills keep coming,

And the government says, "Keep following the rules,"

Just remember-

If nobody's helping,

And you're still on the hook,

Here's your sign:

You're living the bureaucratic afterlife!

For more Jeff Foxworthy laughs and wisdom, check out his official website: jefffoxworthy.com

Or contact him at: info@jefffoxworthy.com

Here's the updated version of the song, incorporating all the elements we've discussed:

The Eternal Enrollment Anthem (Sung by Kelly Clarkson)

(Verse 1)

They're looking at you, honey, with a certain kind of glare

Measuring your journey, with burdens they can bear

They got their own perspective, their own little view

Forgettin' that your pathway, is somethin' fresh and new

(Chorus)

Oh, they're just children, truly, with bottoms of their own

Projectin' all their worries, from seeds that they have sown

So let 'em sing their sad song, let 'em frown and let 'em stare

Your sky's your own horizon, beyond their little square!

(Verse 2)

They whisper 'bout the future, a process so defined

A scary, hurtful journey, they've etched into your mind

Like NASA's blinding lights, to make you truly see

Their version of the timeline, for free utility!

(Bridge)

They want you ever compliant, on every single lease

Lost in manufactured panic, never finding inner peace

Their own distorted pleasure, from the fear they can ignite

But your spirit's not for bondage, you're shining ever bright!

(Chorus)

Oh, they're just children, truly, with bottoms of their own

Projectin' all their worries, from seeds that they have sown

So let 'em sing their sad song, let 'em frown and let 'em stare

Your sky's your own horizon, beyond their little square!

The Eternal Enrollment

The fluorescent hum of the government office was a constant companion, a dull, high-pitched whine that seemed to burrow into Parker's skull. They sat opposite Administrator Gloop, a woman whose cheerfulness felt less like an emotion and more like a carefully maintained, slightly unhinged facade. Gloop's fingers tapped a leisurely, almost indifferent rhythm on an ancient, sluggish keyboard.

"And there we have it, Mr… or is it Ms. Parker?" Gloop beamed, her smile stretching wider than seemed natural. "Our records are quite… comprehensive. Just need you to initial here, here, and here. And sign with a flourish on the dotted line, right there."

Parker rubbed their temples, the grit of exhaustion settling behind their eyes. "Administrator Gloop, we've been at this for six hours. I thought this was just about my… re-verification of non-demise? I filled out the form. The one with the holographic signature requirement."

"Oh, that was just the initial initial," Gloop chirped, waving a dismissive hand. "This is for your Perpetual Existence Recalibration Addendum. It's crucial! Without it, the system… well, it just doesn't know where to file you. And we hate misfiling. Causes quite the ripple effect in the Grand Data Stream."

Parker's eyes widened. "The Grand Data Stream? What are you even talking about? And why does this form have a question about my preferred shade of beige for my next… habitation unit? I like blue! I've always liked blue!"

"Details, details!" Gloop said, her cheer unwavering. "Beige is standard issue for Continuum of Life Unit Allocation. Blue requires a Level 7 variance application, and honestly, Mr./Ms. Parker, your Eternal Enrollment Score isn't quite there yet."

"Eternal Enrollment Score…" Parker muttered, leaning back, the uncomfortable chair digging into their spine. "Is this because of the 'No One Dies' mandate? The one everyone just… accepted?"

"Exactly!" Gloop clapped her hands, a sharp sound in the quiet office. "A wonderful initiative! So much less paperwork when people don't actually… you know. Depart. Just continuous updating! Saves on grave plot allocation, too. Very efficient. Now, about section 7G, your historical preference for… 'Optional Continuous Contributor Status'?"

Suddenly, a voice, rich and melodic, filled the office, clear as if a hidden speaker had just come to life. Administrator Gloop paused, head cocked, a small, puzzled hum escaping her lips, yet she instinctively swayed to the rhythm.

They're looking at you, honey, with a certain kind of glare

Measuring your journey, with burdens they can bear

They got their own perspective, their own little view

Forgettin' that your pathway, is somethin' fresh and new

The Narrator's voice, omnipresent and subtly amused, seemed to emanate from the very air. They hear her. They feel it. But do they connect it to themselves? That's the real trick.

Parker stared at Gloop. The fluorescent lights seemed to hum louder, the edges of the room beginning to shimmer and distort. Gloop's voice, though she hadn't spoken, seemed to become deep and guttural in Parker's ears, a resonant, meaningless drone.

"Optional… Contributor… Status?" Parker's voice was a ragged whisper. "What does that even mean?"

The sterile office dissolved around Parker. They stood, physically unmoving in their chair, but their mind plunged into a bizarre, kaleidoscopic vision. A vast, echoing chamber stretched before them, filled with endless rows of figures, endlessly filling out forms under dim, flickering lights. Their faces were drawn, tired, but they continued their work with a strange, unseeing compliance, like automatons.

Citizen Unit 743-Alpha-Niner. Your Compliance Quotient is… acceptable. For now. A disembodied voice boomed, like a distorted intercom.

Remember, fear is a powerful motivator. Another voice, deeper and more sinister, resonated. It keeps the pens moving. Keeps the data flowing. Keeps the Eternal Engine churning. And the resources… limitless.

Blurred figures moved in the shadows, pulling levers, adjusting dials on massive, whirring machines that seemed to draw energy directly from the compliant workers. The air was thick, heavy with an unseen, oppressive pressure.

The "aging process"? A beautiful illusion! the first voice echoed. A narrative meticulously crafted. Keeps them looking down, not up. Never questioning the true source of their… "benefits."

Why let valuable human capital go to waste? the sinister voice mused. When you can simply… re-task it? Forever. And they will thank you for it. Eventually.

Then, a new voice, calm and clear, cut through the oppressive din, speaking only to Parker. Parker. Look around. You're still there. You haven't gone anywhere. This is your mind protecting you. Letting you see the strings, without actually being pulled apart by them. Breathe. It was Kali.

The horrifying vision began to flicker. The rows of endless form-fillers blurred and faded. The whirring machines dissipated. The shadowy voices became less distinct, then fell silent. The harsh, stark fluorescent lights of the office snapped back into focus.

Parker blinked, the afterimages lingering. Administrator Gloop was still there, smiling serenely, holding out a pen. And Kelly Clarkson's voice swelled again, more insistent, filling the office with its powerful, empathetic sound.

Oh, they're just children, truly, with bottoms of their own

Projectin' all their worries, from seeds that they have sown

So let 'em sing their sad song, let 'em frown and let 'em stare

Your sky's your own horizon, beyond their little square!

"…and then just initial here, Mr./Ms. Parker!" Gloop chirped, oblivious. "Are you quite alright? You had a rather intense facial expression just then. Almost as if you were experiencing a significant data download. Happens sometimes with the Perpetual Existence Recalibration Addendum. Bit of a jolt to the system. And that song… very uplifting, isn't it? I always find myself humming along."

Parker's voice was raspy as they slowly took the pen. "Right. Right. Just… a very, very vivid daydream. About…" Parker looked at Administrator Gloop, who merely beamed, completely unaware of the depths of Parker's recent journey. "…about why we never truly leave the office."

The Narrator's voice faded slightly, imbued with a knowing, almost sympathetic quality. And the search continues. Not for me, perhaps. But for themselves. For the truth behind the paperwork. Good luck to them. They'll need it.

"Excellent! Glad to hear it!" Gloop concluded. "Now, about that preferred shade of beige…"