It’s knowing that your door is always open
And your path is free to walk
That makes me tend to leave my sleeping back
Rolled up and stashed behind your couch
And It’s knowing I’m not shackled
By forgotten words and bonds
Or 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
It’s not clinging to the rocks and ivy
Planted on their columns now that bind me
Or something that somebody said
‘Cause they thought we fit together walking
It’s just knowing that the world
Will not be cursing or forgiving
And I walk along some railroad track and find
That you moving in the backroads by the rivers of my memory
And for always you’re just gentle on my mind
[Instrumental]
Through 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
And your path is free to walk
That makes me tend to leave my sleeping back
Rolled up and stashed behind your couch
And It’s knowing I’m not shackled
By forgotten words and bonds
Or 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
It’s not clinging to the rocks and ivy
Planted on their columns now that bind me
Or something that somebody said
‘Cause they thought we fit together walking
It’s just knowing that the world
Will not be cursing or forgiving
And I walk along some railroad track and find
That you moving in the backroads by the rivers of my memory
And for always you’re just gentle on my mind
[Instrumental]
Through 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
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