None of them
(intro) G
G
1. Well, it's knowing that your door is always open,
Am
and your path is free to walk,
D
that makes me tend to leave my sleeping bag rolled up
G
and stashed behind your couch.
G
And it's knowing I'm not shackled by forgotten words and bonds,
Am
and the ink stains that have dried upon some lines,
D
that keeps you in the back roads by the rivers of my memory,
G
and keeps you ever gentle on my mind.
G
2. It's not clinging to the rocks and ivy
Am
planted on their columns now that bind me,
D
or something that somebody said because
G
they thought we fit together walking.
G
It's just knowing that the world will not be cursing or forgiven,
Am
when I walk along some railroad track and find
D
that you're moving on the back roads by the rivers of my memory,
G
and for hours you're just gentle on my mind.
G
3. Though the wheat fields and the coal mines and the junkyards
Am
and the highways come between us,
D
and some other woman's crying to her mother,
G
'cause she turned and I was gone.
G
I still might run in silence, tears of joy might stain my face,
Am
and the summer sun might burn me till I'm blind,
D
but not to where I cannot see you walking on the back roads
G
by the rivers flowing gentle on my mind.
G
4. I dip my cup of soup from some gurgling, crackling cauldron
Am
in some train yard,
D
my beard a roughening coal pile
G
and a dirty hat pulled low across my face.
G
Through cupped hands round a tin can
Am
I pretend to hold you to my breast and find
D
that you're waving from the back roads by the rivers of my memory,
G
ever smiling, ever gentle on my mind.
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