It's knowing that your door is always open and your path is free to walk
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That makes me tend to leave my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch
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And it's knowing I'm not shackled by forgotten words and bonds
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And the ink stains that have dried up on some line
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That keeps you in the back roads by the rivers of my memory
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That keeps you ever gentle on my mind
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It's not clinging to the rocks and ivy planted on their columns now that binds me
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Or something that somebody said because they thought we fit together walking
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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
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And for hours you're just gentle on my mind
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Well I dip my cup of soup back from the gurgling crackling caldron in some train yard
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My beard a roughening coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face
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Cupped hands 'round a tin can
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I pretend I hold you to my breast and find that you're waving from the back roads by the river of my memory
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Ever smiling ever gentle on my mind
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Gentle On My Mind
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| Dean Martin |
