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 couchAnd it's knowing I'm not shackled
By forgotten words and bonds
And the ink stains that are dried up on some lineThat keeps you in the backroads
By the rivers of my memory
And keeps you ever gentle on my mindIt's 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 walkingIt's just knowing that the world
Will not be cursing or forgiving
When I walk along some railroad track and findThat you're moving on the backroads
By the rivers of my memory
And for hours you're just gentle on my mindThough the wheat fields and the clothes lines
And the junkyards and the highways come between us
And some other woman's crying to her mother
'Cause she turned and you were goneI still might run in silence
Tears of joy might stain my face
And the summer sun might burn me 'til I'm blindBut not to where I cannot see
You walking on the backroads
By the rivers flowing gentle on my mindYou dip your cup of soup, back from a gurgling
Crackling caldron, in some train yard
Your beard a roughening coal pile
And a dirty hat pulled low across your faceThrough cupped hands 'round the tin can
I pretend to hold you to my breast and findThat you're waiting from the backroads
By the rivers of my memories
Ever smiling, ever gentle on my mind
Songwriters
JOHN HARTFORDPublished by
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