John Hartford

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
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 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 bind me
Or something that somebody said because they thought we fit together walkin'
It's 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 mem'ry, and for hours you're just gentle on my mind

I dip my cup of soup back from the gurglin' cracklin' caldron in some train yard
My beard a roughening coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face
Though cupped hands 'round a tin can I pretend hold you to my breast and find
That you're waving from the back roads, by the rivers of my mem'ry, ever smilin', ever gentle on my mind

That you're waving from the back roads, by the rivers of my mem'ry, ever smilin', ever gentle on my mind

FLATT & SCRUGGS - Nashville Airplane