C Gentle On My Mind, Glen Campbell, 1967
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
And it’s knowing I’m not shackled, By forgotten words and bonds
And the ink stains that are dried upon some line
That keeps you in the backroads, By the rivers of my memory
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 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 backroads 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 junkyards and the highways come between us
And some other woman’s cryin’ to her mother
‘Cause she turned and I was gone
I still might run in silence 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 walkin’ on the backroads
By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind
I dip my cup of soup back from a gurglin’
Cracklin’ caldron in some train yard
My beard a rustling coal pile and, A dirty hat pulled low across my face
Through cupped hands ’round the tin can
I pretend to hold you to my breast and find
That you’re walking from the backroads By the rivers of my memories.
Ever smilin’, ever gentle on my mind.
