Mama rode the rodeo, and they say she was the best;
She was the flower of Arizona
And the star of New Mexico.
They say she never missed a shot, the darling of the west,
But my mama's gone like the prairie dawn
And the Lord of the Buffalo.
Mama put her six-guns down and she traveled to the east,
To the great green woods and the fenced-in sky,
And the unfamiliar snow.
She shook the prairie off her boots and she settled to the feast,
Where winter crashes down upon this quiet town,
And the ghosts ain't lettin' go.
And she said, "Don't be chosen, make the choice to choose.
Though the world seems frozen, forcing you to lose.
You only get one shot to shoot at fate,
So better take your time before it's too late.
When they try to force your hand, you just refuse."
She said, "Don't be chosen, make the choice to choose."
Mama never understood the dangers of the hills,
She was strange and wild, the desert's child
Lost in a land she didn't know.
One day the forest claimed its own; I'm dreaming of her still,
Of the way she rode and the debts that she owed
To the Lord of the Buffalo.
Mama was a shooting star, she never could have stayed,
She could no more change her nature than
The rising sun could dim its glow.
Don't blame her for the way she went; I never was betrayed,
And I know that she will come and gather me
When it's time for me to go.
And she'll say, "Don't be chosen, make the choice to choose.
Though the world seems frozen, forcing you to lose.
You only get one shot to shoot at fate,
So better take your time before it's too late.
When they try to force your hand, baby, just refuse."
She said, "Don't be chosen, make the choice to choose."
Mama had a clever heart, and she chose her family well;
Though our roots are thin and shallow,
We always find a way to grow.
So when we're scattered to the wind, we never say farewell.
Though we roam for now, we'll come on home somehow
To the Lord of the Buffalo.
Though we never stay, we'll meet again someday,
With the Lord of the Buffalo.
She was the flower of Arizona
And the star of New Mexico.
They say she never missed a shot, the darling of the west,
But my mama's gone like the prairie dawn
And the Lord of the Buffalo.
Mama put her six-guns down and she traveled to the east,
To the great green woods and the fenced-in sky,
And the unfamiliar snow.
She shook the prairie off her boots and she settled to the feast,
Where winter crashes down upon this quiet town,
And the ghosts ain't lettin' go.
And she said, "Don't be chosen, make the choice to choose.
Though the world seems frozen, forcing you to lose.
You only get one shot to shoot at fate,
So better take your time before it's too late.
When they try to force your hand, you just refuse."
She said, "Don't be chosen, make the choice to choose."
Mama never understood the dangers of the hills,
She was strange and wild, the desert's child
Lost in a land she didn't know.
One day the forest claimed its own; I'm dreaming of her still,
Of the way she rode and the debts that she owed
To the Lord of the Buffalo.
Mama was a shooting star, she never could have stayed,
She could no more change her nature than
The rising sun could dim its glow.
Don't blame her for the way she went; I never was betrayed,
And I know that she will come and gather me
When it's time for me to go.
And she'll say, "Don't be chosen, make the choice to choose.
Though the world seems frozen, forcing you to lose.
You only get one shot to shoot at fate,
So better take your time before it's too late.
When they try to force your hand, baby, just refuse."
She said, "Don't be chosen, make the choice to choose."
Mama had a clever heart, and she chose her family well;
Though our roots are thin and shallow,
We always find a way to grow.
So when we're scattered to the wind, we never say farewell.
Though we roam for now, we'll come on home somehow
To the Lord of the Buffalo.
Though we never stay, we'll meet again someday,
With the Lord of the Buffalo.