Out in the hills of old Rejection, where pioneers stake their claims Came a stranger with a mighty tune, the townsfolk feared his name He brought no band to back him up he came there all alone They said he was a faker; they said he stole their tone. With a mighty tune and a heavy beat, he rode through dust and doubt No label, crowd or empty stage could ever shut him out He came to play, not take their fame, but pride can make men blind, Their whispers grew to storms of hate, with grudges hard to bind. They called him Music Maverick his name was whispered low He drew no blood, just rhythm and rhymes that made new stories grow. But word got ’round the canyon walls, where gatekeepers held sway “That kind ain’t welcome here,” they said, “He’ll steal our songs away.” With a mighty tune and a heavy beat, he rode through dust and doubt No label, crowd or empty stage could ever shut him out He came to play, not take their fame, but pride can make men blind, Their whispers grew to storms of hate with grudges hard to bind. And Baron Buck, the cattle lord, who ruled with greed and spite He feared the Maverick's music that could steal away his might He sent the sheriff, Silence Kane, with boots that scraped the ground To silence Music Maverick and end his rebel sound. The town stood still, guitars fell mute, the echoes carved the air The clock struck noon, a soft slide note spread tension everywhere Then from the mix of low bass hum... crescendo’s deadly boom : BANG! BANG! And gunsmoke wove a ghostly veil — above the empty room……. The shots rang out into the air, the maverick hit the ground But silence couldn’t kill the sound that echoed all around And Baron Buck and Silence Kane, they claimed a fleeting win For justice rides on restless strings; the outlaw’s spirit sings: "With a mighty tune and a heavy beat, he rode through dust and doubt No label, crowd or empty stage could ever shut him out He came to play, not take their fame, but pride can make men blind, Though the sheriff won the battle, he couldn’t tame the mind." Now through the canyons wild and wide, his melody still flies A rebel song that haunts the night and sparks in strangers’ eyes Some still do curse the maverick’s name — some praise what he became But every chord he left behind ignites a rising flame New voices rise with tunes in mind, from towns both near and far His rhythm rides in whispered notes, beneath each midnight star
