Gentle On My Mind

[(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.