It's knowin' 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 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
In their columns now that binds me
Or something that somebody said
Because they thought we fit together walkin'
It's just knowing that the world will not be cursing or forgiving
When I walk along some railroad track and find
That you're moving on the back roads by the rivers of my memory
And for hours you're just gentle on my mind