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Introduction
corook opens “Scooby” with a sardonic grin, piling everyday images until they topple into something darker. The narrator is posting, consuming, voting — all the "right" things — yet a sense of complicity hums beneath the surface.
Verse 1
“I’ve got six unopened boxes from Amazon / On my porch”
The unopened packages symbolize impulse comfort, a backlog of wants mistaken for needs. They sit like silent accusations of passive excess.
“Pull out my thousand dollar iPhone… then I’ll upload it to TikTok because it makes me feel important”
Recording injustice instead of interrupting it, the speaker confesses to performative outrage. Digital documentation replaces real-world intervention, exposing a hollow brand of activism.
“I vote blue every year / Look at how far we’ve gotten”
A quick political flex melts into sarcasm. The line ridicules the idea that a single lever pull absolves us from deeper, messy work, touching the broader theme of complacent progressivism.
Chorus
“I’m like Scooby Doo / Looking for clues”
The classic cartoon detective becomes a stand-in for collective bewilderment. We’re sniffing around for culprits while missing our own paw prints at the scene.
“I just put on my big dog pants / Now I’m learning a TikTok dance”
Determination collapses into distraction within a single breath. The image skewers how self-help jargon and fleeting trends offer dopamine but no solutions.
“Fuck I am the enemy”
The curtain drops. The villain unmasked isn’t a shady corporation or fringe troll — it’s the comfortable onlooker who benefits from the very systems they condemn.
Verse 2
“To the Fortnite teen that’s hurling slurs from a flyover state / It’s not your fault…”
The narrator pivots from self-loathing to empathy. By tracing hatred back to incarceration, rent crises, and gutted schools, corook reframes the teen’s rage as a symptom, not the source.
“Both of us are getting played like we’re the song of the summer / By a billionaire DJ on a mega yacht”
The song widens its scope: working-class enemies are manufactured while the ultra-rich spin the tracks. This ties the verse to the overarching theme of manufactured division and corporate profiteering.
Chorus (reprise)
“Maybe the problem is too big for me”
The repeated hook lands heavier after Verse 2. The mystery remains unsolved, but the narrator’s awareness has sharpened; resignation and accountability now coexist in one uneasy breath.
Conclusion
“Scooby” masks urgent questions in bubble-gum melodies: How much damage hides behind our conveniences? Where does satire end and confession begin? By the final bark, corook isn’t just calling out faceless foes — they’re urging listeners to look past the screen, the latte, the algorithm, and trace the mystery back to their own doorstep.
