It's knowing that your door's always open and your path is free to walk
That makes me tend to leave my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch
It's knowing I'm not shackled by forgotten words and bonds and the ink stains that have dried up on some lines
That keeps you on the back roads by the rivers of my memory to keep you ever gentle on my mind
It's not clinging to the rocks and ivy planted on their columns now that binds me
Or something that somebody said because they thought we'd fit together walking
It's just knowing that the world will not be cursing or forgiving when I walk along some railroad track and find
That you're moving on back roads by the rivers of my memory and for hours you're just gentle on my mind
Though the wheat fields and the clotheslines and the junkyards and the highways come between us
And some other woman crying to her mother called, she turned and I was gone
I still might run in silence, tears of joy might stain my face and a summer sun might burn me till I'm blind
But not to her I cannot see you walking on the back roads by the rivers flowing gentle on my mind
The shudders creaking autumn winds that make me draw inside myself in silence
Cross naked now I sit and watch the endless chase leaves cross my yard
And laying down my hairbrush I lean back within my window seat and find
That you're moving on back roads by the rivers of my memory ever smiling ever gentle on my mind
Through cupped hands round the tin can I pretend to hold you to my breast and find
That you're waving from the back roads by the rivers of my memory ever smiling ever gentle on my mind