Its 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 And its knowing Im 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 memory That keeps you ever gentle on my mind Its not clinging to the rocks and ivy planted on their columns now that bind me Or something that somebody said because they thought we fit together walking Its just knowing that the world will not be cursing or forgiving When I walk along some railroad track and find That youre moving on the backroads by the rivers of my memory And for hours youre just gentle on my mind Though the wheat fields and the clothes lines And the junkyards and the highways come between us And some other womans crying 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 till Im blind But not to where I cannot see you walking on the backroads By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind I dip my cup of of soup back from a gurgling crackling cauldron in some train yard My beard a roughened coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face Through cupped hands round a tin can I pretend to hold you to my breast and find That youre wavin from the backroads by the rivers of my memory Ever smiling ever gentle on my mind
Posted on: Wed, 17 Dec 2014 17:33:28 +0000