|
|
Atmosphere - In Her Music Box Atmosphere - In Her Music Box |
| She had a bad dream in the back seat
Same one as yesterday
Same one as last week
Surrounded by her favorite favorites
Elmo, Barbie, her purple baby blanket
And that little Matchbox it looks just like Dad's car
It's fast on the leather, pretends its NASCAR
It jumps over Elmo 'cause it can fly that far
With Daddy in the front seat frontin' like a Rap star
And Girl oh Girl, Daddys the greatest
He knows the words
To everything on the radio play list
He fakes the accents, even makes all the faces
And when he raises his voice
It makes her feel like he's famous
Yeah Poppa got his lean on, a mean one
Weavin' down the Lake Street tryin' to get his seen on
Stoppin' the whip to say somethin' out the window
Bobbin' his head to the beat on the radio
Good Daddy won't smoke no weed
Until the bass cradles her back to sleep
Then he can stake his mack while she takes a nap
To the sweet pretty sound of the gangster rap
Shhh, the high hats are angel's voices
They keep her distracted
From the stranger's voices
Escape is a paradox
Because her childhood is locked in that music box
Daddies drive around, Mommies work nightshift
Sweet dreams, sweet little precious
Lay down in that music box
Escape in the sound of that music box
Yeah, Daddy knows people he's important
The guy with the suit and tie they see at the court
And it seems like he ain't tryin' to talk to police
But at the car wash they treat him
Like the star that she sees
They like Poppa's big wheels
And the lollipop she gets
Makes her feel like a big deal
Not allowed to have it yet, gotta sit still
Like the toy that she knows is gonna come
With the Kid's Meal
She loves drive thru food
Health conscious Dad, he buys her the juice
A little sip a soda builds the pride
Go ahead Baby Girl don't spill those fries
Nuh-Uh Poppa can't roll a messy office
Compulsive in the way
She lay them napkins all across the seat
Never puts her feet on the upholstery
Just kicks 'em side to side to the beat on the radio
She sings along like Dad does
She knows all the words but leaves out the bad ones
Except bitch, she always says the word bitch
Because it makes her Daddy laugh, it's her magic trick
And when Daddy picks Mommy up they fight
They fight about money, they fight about life
So she concentrates so so hard on the music
And loses herself inside of the bass and the movement
Daddies drive around, Mommies work nightshift
Sweet dreams, sweet little precious
Lay down in that music box
Escape in the sound of that music box
Turn that Buick off |
| |
Atmosphere:
Atmosphere:
