Little Amsterdam — Tori Amos

Little Amsterdam In a southern town Hominy get it on your plate girl Momma keep your head down Momma wasn't my bullet

Don't take me back to the Range I'm just comin' out of the cell in my brain Dojn't take me back to the Range Girl you got to know these days Which side your on

Momma got shit She loved a brown man Then she built a bridge in the sheriff's bed She'd do anything to save her man You see her olives they are cold pressed And her best friend is a sun dress But Momma It wasn't my bullet

Don't take me back to the Range I'm just comin' out of the cell in my brain Dojn't take me back to the Range Girl you got to know these days

All alone Got a girl in the city Hey, got a room and a place for two Got a goat and a phone, I said boy You are my Fifth Avenue

Round and a round and a round I go Round and a round this time for keeps Father only you can save my soul And playing that organ must count for something Girl you got to know these days

Little Amsterdam Shut down today They buried her with a butter bean bouquet And the sheriff now can't ride away Like he said into the sunset And I won't say He shouldna paid But Momma It wasn't my bullet