Song Lyrics
By the rivers flowin gentle on my mind, i dipped my cup of soap back from a gurgling crackling caltron in some train, and the ink stains that have dried upon some line
And a summer sun might burn me till i m blind, and the junk yards and the highways come between us and some other woman cryin to her mama cause she turned and i was gone
that makes me tend to keep my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch
But not to where i cannot see you walking on the back roads, and a summer sun might burn me till i m blind
That makes me tend to keep my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch, that keeps you ever gentle on my mind
that makes me tend to keep my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch
I still might run in silence tears of joy might stain my face, that makes me tend to keep my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch
That you re waving from the back roads by the rivers of my mem ry, and the ink stains that have dried upon some line Band, i still might run in silence tears of joy might stain my face
By the rivers flowin gentle on my mind, though the wheet fields and the clothes lines, when i walk along some railroad track and find
My beard a roughen coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face, it s not clinging to the rocks and i d be planted on their columns now that, and it s knowing i m not shacked by forgotten words and bons
ever smiling ever gentle on my mind mhm
and the junk yards and the highways come between us and some other woman cryin to her mama cause she turned and i was gone
when i walk along some railroad track and find
binds me or something that somebody said because they thought we fit together walking
that you re movin on the back roads by the rivers of my mem ry
that makes me tend to keep my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch
that you re movin on the back roads by the rivers of my mem ry
my beard a roughen coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face
that you re waving from the back roads by the rivers of my mem ry
And the ink stains that have dried upon some line, ever smiling ever gentle on my mind mhm
It s not clinging to the rocks and i d be planted on their columns now that, my beard a roughen coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face
and for hours you re just gentle on my mind
And the junk yards and the highways come between us and some other woman cryin to her mama cause she turned and i was gone, my beard a roughen coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face, that makes me tend to keep my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch
That you re waving from the back roads by the rivers of my mem ry, that makes me tend to keep my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch
and the junk yards and the highways come between us and some other woman cryin to her mama cause she turned and i was gone
but not to where i cannot see you walking on the back roads
ever smiling ever gentle on my mind mhm
That keeps you in the back roads by the rivers of my mem ry, and the ink stains that have dried upon some line My, though the wheet fields and the clothes lines
and it s knowing i m not shacked by forgotten words and bons
and the junk yards and the highways come between us and some other woman cryin to her mama cause she turned and i was gone
When i walk along some railroad track and find, ever smiling ever gentle on my mind mhm Gentle, that keeps you in the back roads by the rivers of my mem ry
Ever smiling ever gentle on my mind mhm, but not to where i cannot see you walking on the back roads
That you re waving from the back roads by the rivers of my mem ry, and the junk yards and the highways come between us and some other woman cryin to her mama cause she turned and i was gone Mind, when i walk along some railroad track and find
But not to where i cannot see you walking on the back roads, that you re movin on the back roads by the rivers of my mem ry, it s just knowin that the world will not be cursin or forgiving
And it s knowing i m not shacked by forgotten words and bons, that makes me tend to keep my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch
ever smiling ever gentle on my mind mhm
Through cupped hands round a tin can i pretend i hold you to my breast and find, that you re movin on the back roads by the rivers of my mem ry
and a summer sun might burn me till i m blind
My beard a roughen coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face, but not to where i cannot see you walking on the back roads
I still might run in silence tears of joy might stain my face, and for hours you re just gentle on my mind