The story goes young Billy was a farm boy sitting in a city bar Minding his business when a fight broke out it was one that he didn’t start From out of nowhere a mountain of a man stuck a bottle in Billy’s face So Billy took a knife he was fighting for his life he wasn’t gonna die that day With every ounce of strength had he swung that blade around He left that big man lying in a pool of blood face down
His lawyers claimed that it was self-defense but it fell upon deaf ears The jury found him guilty and they gave him twenty years Somewhere between the court house and those rusty prison gates That jail bus crashed into a river he made his great escape He crawled from the water and he ran towards the hills Knowing they’d be after him with orders shoot to kill
He was slowing down with every step, chains heavy on his skin Night sky bright with chopper lights and hound dogs closing in The hunt led to a canyon and with nowhere left to go Billy’s choice was prison or the water far below He yelled I’m not going back and turned himself around And threw himself right off that ledge never to be found
How the story ended only one man really knows Until this very day he wears the scars And I can tell you every detail of how that legend goes Cause I was that farm boy, sittin in that city bar