It's knowing that your door is 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 are dried upon some line
That keeps you on the back roads by the rivers of my memory, that keeps you ever gentle on my mind
It's not clinging to the rocks and ivy planted on their columns now that bind me
Or something that somebody said because he thought we fit together walking
It's just knowing that the world will not be cursing nor forgiving when I walk along some railroad track and find
That you're moving on the back roads by the rivers of my memory, ever 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's crying to her mother cause she turned and I was gone
Ooh, I still might run into silence, tears of joy might stain my face and the summer sun might burn me till I'm gone
Oh, but not to where I cannot see you walking on the back roads by the rivers flowing gentle on my mind
I dip my cup of soup back from a gurgling, crackling cauldron in some train yard
My beard a rustling, a cold towel, a dirty hat below across my face
Through cup tins round the tin can I pretend to hold you to my breast and find
That you're waiting from the back roads by the rivers of my memories, ever smiling, ever gentle on my mind
Gentle on my mind
Yeah, gentle on my mind
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