Gentle On My Mind

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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

its knowing I'm not shackled by forgotten words and bonds
and the ink stains that have dried upon some lines
that keeps you in the backroads
by the rivers of my memory
and 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 you're moving by the backroads
by the rivers of my memory
and for hours you're just gentle on my mind

I dip a cup of soup back
from some gurgling crackling cauldron in some train yard
my beard a roughin 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 you're waving from the backroads
by the rivers of my memory
ever smiling ever gentle on my mind