歌词
Little Amsterdam in a southern town
Hominy, get it on the plate, girl
Momma, keep your head down
Momma, it wasn’t my bullet
Don’t take me back to the range
Back to the range
I’m just coming out of the cell in my brain
Don’t, don't take me back to the range
Back to the range
Cause, girl, you’ve got to know these days
Which side you’re on
Momma got shit, she, 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, no
Don’t take me back to the range
Back to the range
I’m just coming out of the cell in my brain
Don’t, don't take me back to the range
Back to the range
Cause, girl, you’ve 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 around and around I go
Round and around this time for keeps (Say a word to the hangman for me, my baby)
Round and around and around I go
Round and around this time for keeps(Say a word to the hangman for me, me and my babe)
Father only you can save my soul
And playing that organ must count for something, something
Girl you’ve 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 that he shouldn’t have paid
But, Momma, it wasn’t my bullet
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