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