Gentle On My Mind

	It's knowin' 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 it's knowing I'm 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.

	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 fit together walkin'.
	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 backroads by the rivers of my memory
	And for hours you're 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 woman 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 a summer sun might burn me till I'm blind.
	But not to where I cannot see you walkin' on the backroads
	By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind.

	I dip my cup of soup, back from the gurgling cracklin' cauldron
	In some train yard
	My beard a roughning coal pile and a dirty hat
	Pulled low across my face.
	Through cupped hands 'round a tin can
	I pretend I hold you to my breast and find
	That you're waving from the backroads by the rivers of my memory
	Ever smilin' ever gentle on my mind.