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Little
Amsterdam
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
Girl you got to
know these days which side you’re on
Mmm, oh, na, na,
na, na, na
Mmm, oh, na, na,
na, na, na
Momma got shit
She loved a
brown man then she built a bridge in the Sheriff’s bec
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, oh, oh
Don’t take me
back to the Range
Back to the
Range
I’m just coming
out of the cell in my brain
Oh, na, na, na,
na, na, na, na, na
Oh, na, na, na,
na, na, na, na, na
All alone got a
girl in the city
Hey got a room
and a place for two
Got a goat and a
fawn
I said boy you
are my 5th Avenue
Round and
around and around I go
Round and
around this time for keeps
Round and
around and around I go
Round and
around this time for keeps
Father only you
can save my soul and playing that organ must count for something, something
Girl you got to
know these days which side you’re on
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 shouldna paid
But Momma it
wasn’t my bullet
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