[Little Amsterdam]
Boys for Pele
liner

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
I'm just comin out of the cell in my brain
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 are cold pressed
and her best friend is a sun dress
but Momma
it wasn't my bullet

round and a round and a round I go
round and a round this time for keeps [1]

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


^Background Lyrics^
transcribed by jase

[1] Say, you wanna belong now for me, my baby?
Say, you weren't the hangman for me, my baby?


^Interpretation^
Really Deep Thoughts #10

"I'm a big Faulkner fan, Tennessee Williams fan. How I would get taken into the story, there are so many levels of a story. There are so many levels of a dinner table conversation that's happening, with the smells against what's being said, the rhythm of the shuffled feet. Because you're dealing with the unconsciousness as well as consciousness at every moment. The big thing that started to come to me in Amsterdam was ... I mean, I'll tell you this, just visitations of Sylvia Plath, as I would be singing 'Don't take me back to the range.'

"The struggle of knowing I could kill him, knowing he should be killed, knowing I'm totally fine about it but Mom, that wasn't my bullet. And I'm paying for it. I get fascinated by boundaries."

All lyrics are written by Tori Amos.
Published by Sword and Stone, ASCAP.

Drops of Ivory 1997-2005