In the Cradle
I guess my daddy used to be barber
He took lines to the head and cut so many daughters
And left a trail of little midgets running loose
In the Dixie land of 'Bama where the baby had no roots
A single wide in the woods and a Harley
No bill money, no food, no Atari
What a fucking life, good job dad, sorry
Baby's in the cradle, plastic spoon
Little boy's blue, black clouds on the moon
My mother must have been a cute girl
A rebel at school, living in her own world
She left behind a legacy that only speaks bad with
Rocks in purses, whooping girls' asses
Left home young, left wrong impressions
Made bill money in bars and weed runs
Took ahold of drugs, what a life, good job mom
Baby's in the cradle, plastic spoon
Little boy's blue, black clouds on the moon
Yep, together they were like the perfect pair
Daddy had the matchstick, mama had the flair
Flames got lit, shit got burnt
The roof caved in, the table got turned
I was wounded by the scene, but pass that salt
Make it hurt worse, give me more alcohol
Look at me now, good job y'all
Now I'm, all grown up
Got a new gun, got a new truck, you just
(Waiting for the sun)
So come home
(Waiting for the sun)
I am home
(Waiting for the sun)
When ya coming home?
Well I don't know when
I don't know when
Well guess who's back in jail
Your mama wanna know if you got money for the bail
Your daddy's in the county for not paying on support
They tagged him with a fine for not showing up to court
Fuck it, here's 500 dollars for him
I did it for my little sister, I ain't sorry for him
Tell that motherfucker I want it back in the morning
Daddy's in the county with the plastic spoon
Bail money up, what's he gonna do
He'll probably run into another trailer
Knock another lady up and leave her laying there
He might go to crack another beer
He might go to do some blow and shorten out the dealer
I'll probably save him from another bullet
From another crystal meth pusher with a mullet
Or I might load the gun myself and tell him just to pull it!
Pull it!
Flowers in fields
Of red and blue
Dreams of a hill
White clouds too
Am I still here?
Tell me the truth
If this dream is real
I'll rest in peace off the roof (jump!)
Peace off the roof (jump!)
Peace... (jump!)
He took lines to the head and cut so many daughters
And left a trail of little midgets running loose
In the Dixie land of 'Bama where the baby had no roots
A single wide in the woods and a Harley
No bill money, no food, no Atari
What a fucking life, good job dad, sorry
Baby's in the cradle, plastic spoon
Little boy's blue, black clouds on the moon
My mother must have been a cute girl
A rebel at school, living in her own world
She left behind a legacy that only speaks bad with
Rocks in purses, whooping girls' asses
Left home young, left wrong impressions
Made bill money in bars and weed runs
Took ahold of drugs, what a life, good job mom
Baby's in the cradle, plastic spoon
Little boy's blue, black clouds on the moon
Yep, together they were like the perfect pair
Daddy had the matchstick, mama had the flair
Flames got lit, shit got burnt
The roof caved in, the table got turned
I was wounded by the scene, but pass that salt
Make it hurt worse, give me more alcohol
Look at me now, good job y'all
Now I'm, all grown up
Got a new gun, got a new truck, you just
(Waiting for the sun)
So come home
(Waiting for the sun)
I am home
(Waiting for the sun)
When ya coming home?
Well I don't know when
I don't know when
Well guess who's back in jail
Your mama wanna know if you got money for the bail
Your daddy's in the county for not paying on support
They tagged him with a fine for not showing up to court
Fuck it, here's 500 dollars for him
I did it for my little sister, I ain't sorry for him
Tell that motherfucker I want it back in the morning
Daddy's in the county with the plastic spoon
Bail money up, what's he gonna do
He'll probably run into another trailer
Knock another lady up and leave her laying there
He might go to crack another beer
He might go to do some blow and shorten out the dealer
I'll probably save him from another bullet
From another crystal meth pusher with a mullet
Or I might load the gun myself and tell him just to pull it!
Pull it!
Flowers in fields
Of red and blue
Dreams of a hill
White clouds too
Am I still here?
Tell me the truth
If this dream is real
I'll rest in peace off the roof (jump!)
Peace off the roof (jump!)
Peace... (jump!)
Credits
Writer(s): Sandy Chapin, Harry F. Chapin
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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