Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I—
and let's face it, who isn't less fortunate than I?—
my tender heart tends to start to bleed.
And when someone needs a makeover,
I simply have to take over.
I know, I know, exactly what they need.
And even in your case,
though it's the toughest case I've yet to face,
don't worry. I'm determined to succeed.
Follow my lead
and yes indeed
you
will
be...

popular. You're gonna be popular.
I'll teach you the proper poise
when you talk to boys,
little ways to flirt and flounce.
Ooo! I'll show you what shoes to wear,
how to fix your hair,
everything that really counts to be
popular. I'll help you be popular.
You'll hang with the right cohorts.
You'll be good at sports,
know the slang you've got to know.
So let's start, 'cause you've got an awful long way to go.

Don't be offended by my frank analysis.
Think of it as personality dialysis.
Now that I've chosen to become a pal,
a sister and advisor,
there's nobody wiser,
not when it comes to

popular. I know about popular.
And with an assist from me
to be who you'll be
instead of dreary who you were—
well, are—
there's nothing that can stop you
from becoming popular—
-lar

Laaa laaa, laaa laaa
We're gonna make you popular.

When I see depressing creatures
with unprepossessing features,
I remind them on their own
behalf to think of
celebrated heads of state or
especially great communicators.
Did they have brains or knowledge?
Don't make me laugh! They were

popular. Please, it's all about popular.
It's not about aptitude,
it's the way you're viewed,
so it's very shrewd to be
very very popular like me.

Why Miss Elphaba, look at you.
You're beautiful.
*I have to go.*
You're welcome.

And though you protest
your disinterest,
I know clandestinely.
You're gonna grin and bear it,
your new found popularity.

Laaa laaa, laaa laaa
You'll be popular.
Just not quite as popular
as me.