In Her Music Box

Atmosphere

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    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, daddy's 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
    Shh, 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, sleep little precious
    Lay down in that music box
    Escape in the sound of that music box

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    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 through 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, sleep little precious
    Lay down in that music box
    Escape in the sound of that music box
    Turn that buick off

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