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