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 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 mem'ry 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 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 are moving on the backroads By the rivers of my mem'ry And for hours you're just gentle on my mind
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