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