Idioma Origen:
It's knowing that your door is always open
And your path is free to walk
That makes me tend to keep my sleeping bag rolled up
And stashed behind your couch
It's knowing I'm not shackled
By forgotten words and bonds
And the heat stains that have dried up on some loving
That keeps you in the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
It keeps you ever gentle on my mind
It's not clinging to the rocks and ivy
Planted on their columns mellowed by me
Or something that somebody said
Because they thought we'd fit together walking
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
Though the wheat fields and the clothes lines
And the junk yards and the highways come between us
And some other woman's crying to her mother
Cos she turned and I was gone
I still might run in silence
And tears of joy might stain my face
And the summer sun might burn me til I'm blind
But not to where I cannot see you
Walking in the back roads
By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind
I dip my cup of soup from a gurgling
Cracking cauldron in some train yard
I'm bearded, running cold hard
And a dirty hat pulled low across my face
Through cupped hands around the tin cans
I pretend to hold you to my breast and find
That you're waving from the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
Ever smiling, ever gentle on my mind
Idioma Destino:
It's knowing that your door is always open
And your path is free to walk
That makes me tend to keep my sleeping bag rolled up
And stashed behind your couch
It's knowing I'm not shackled
By forgotten words and bonds
And the heat stains that have dried up on some loving
That keeps you in the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
It keeps you ever gentle on my mind
It's not clinging to the rocks and ivy
Planted on their columns mellowed by me
Or something that somebody said
Because they thought we'd fit together walking
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
Though the wheat fields and the clothes lines
And the junk yards and the highways come between us
And some other woman's crying to her mother
Cos she turned and I was gone
I still might run in silence
And tears of joy might stain my face
And the summer sun might burn me til I'm blind
But not to where I cannot see you
Walking in the back roads
By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind
I dip my cup of soup from a gurgling
Cracking cauldron in some train yard
I'm bearded, running cold hard
And a dirty hat pulled low across my face
Through cupped hands around the tin cans
I pretend to hold you to my breast and find
That you're waving from the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
Ever smiling, ever gentle on my mind