Gears & Griot

[Verse 1]
My hide smells like cold cash and Rockaway Parkway beef patties
You taped your grandma's picture right there, just above the AC
My axles ache on the BQE crawl, feel your knuckles on my wheel
We carry every banker's Sunday, make the paper feel real
They see a target, I see your calloused hands, the engine's quiet hum
You whisper Kreyòl prayers to the dashboard when the quiet gets too numb
For eight whole years, a rolling vault, a beast of stripped-down steel
Before the therapist, before the door, you told me how you feel.

[Chorus]
A hundred thousand miles on the dashboard clock
I got the keys that fit every dead-end block
They hear the engine knocking, baby, let 'em talk
I got the keys that fit every dead-end block.

[Interlude]
(SFX: Engine sputters, cuts out. Ignition key turns, fails.)
(Muffled Female Voice, phone filter): "'You still in that tin can? Come home, cheri. I made the sòs pwa.'"
(SFX: A heavy CLICK, the engine roars to life. BEAT SWITCH.)

[Verse 2]
This ain't a truck, it's a ribcage now, a promise made of gears
Fourth gear is stripped from that Tuesday in October, hidin' all your fears
The window cracked, a spider web, a map of what could be
One wrong turn on Flatlands Ave and that's the physics, you and me
I am the armor, the second skin, the shadow on the curb
The only reason you can walk that walk and say that silent word
So let 'em press, I'll take the hit, my chassis' built for strain
A rolling fortress for the king who's walking home in the rain.

[Chorus]
A hundred thousand miles on the dashboard clock
I got the keys that fit every dead-end block
They hear the engine knocking, baby, let 'em talk
I got the keys that fit every dead-end block.

[Outro]
A hundred thousand miles and I'm still...
(SFX: Drill beat fades. Sound of car keys dropped on a wooden table. Distant L train screech.)