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 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 fit together walking
  It's just knowing that the world will not be cursing or forgiving when I walk along some railroad track by the rivers of my memory
  And for hours you're just gentle on my mind
  
  Well I dip my cup of soup back from the gurgling crackling caldron in some train yard
  My beard a roughening coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face
  
  Cupped hands 'round a tin can
  I pretend I hold you to my breast and find that you're waving from the back roads by the river of my memory
  Ever smiling ever gentle on my mind