It's knowin' that your door is always open
And your path is free to walk, uh hm
That makes me tend to keep my sleeping bag
Rolled up and stashed behind your couch.
And it's knowin' I'm not shackled by forgotten words and bonds
And the ink stains that have dried upon some line,
That keeps you in the backroads by the rivers of my mem'ry,
That keeps you ever gentle on my mind (gentle on my mind)
It's not clingin' to the rocks and ivy
Planted on their columns now that bind me,
Or somethin' that somebody said
Because they thought we fit together walkin' (together walking)
It's just knowing that the world will not be cursin' or forgivin'
When I walk along some railroad track and find
That you're moving on the backroads by the rivers of my mem'ry
And for hours you're just gentle on my mind
Though the wheat fields and the clothes lines
And the junkyards and the highways come between us (between us)
And some other woman's cryin' to her mother
'cause she turned and I was gone,
I still might run in silence, tears of joy might stain my face,
And the summer sun might burn me 'til I'm blind,
But not to where I cannot see you walkin' in the backroads
By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind.
I dip my cup of soup back from a
Gurglin' cracklin' cauldron in some train yard, (some train yard)
My beard a roughning coal pile
And a dirty hat pulled low across my face.
Through cupped hands around a tin can
I pretend to hold you to my breast and find, uh hmm
That you're waving from the backroads by the rivers of my mem'ry,
Ever smilin', ever gentle on my mind. |
