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 the couch
It's knowing I'm not
shackled by forgotten
words and bonds
And the ink stains
that are dried up
on some line
That keeps you
in 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 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 the back roads
by the rivers of my memory
And for hours you're just
gentle on my mind
Through the wheat fields
and the clothes lines
and the junk yards and the
highways come between us
And some other man crying
to his mother 'cos he
turned and you were gone
I still might run in silence
tears of joy
might stain my face
And the summer sun
might burn me 'til I'm blind
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 the gurgling, crackling
cauldron in some train yard
My bitter rough and coal pile
and a dirty hat
pulled low across my face
Through cupped hands
round a tin can I pretend
you hold me to
my breast and find
That you're waving
on the back roads
by the rivers of my memory
Ever smiling ever
gentle on my mind
