High on a mountain in western Montana
A silhouette moves across a cinnamon sky
Riding along on a horse he calls music
With a song on his lips, and a tear in his eye
He dreams of a time, and a lady that loved him
and how he would sing her sweet lullaby's
but we don't ever ask him, and he never talks about her
I guess its just better that we all let it slide
And he sings Oooh to the ladies
and Oooh he makes 'em sigh
Then he rides away on a horse he calls Music
With a pain in his heart, and a tear in his eye
Now he rode the Music from Boston to Bozeman
