GENTLE ON MY MIND DEAN MARTIN --------------------------------------------------------------------- It's knowing that your door is always open and your path is free to walk. That makes me tend to leave my sleepingbag 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 have dried upon some line, that keeps you in the backroads by the rivers of my mem'ry that keeps you ever gentle on my mind. It's not climbing to the rocks and ivy planted on their columns now that binds me. Or something that somebody said because they thought we fit together walkin'. It's just knowing by the world will not be cursing or forgiving when I walk along. Some railroad track I find. That you're moving on the backroads by the rivers of my memory and for hours You're just gentle on my mind. Thought the wheat fields and the clothes lines and junkyards and the highways come between us. And some other woman crying to her mother 'cause she turned and I was gone. I still run in silence, tears of joy might stain my face and summer sun might. Burn me 'til I'm blind. But not to where I cannot see you walkin' on the backroads by the rivers lowing gentle on my mind I dip my cup of soup back from the gurglin' cracklin' caldron in some train yard my beard a roughening coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face. Through cupped hands 'round a tin can I pretend I hold you to my breast and find that you're waving from the backroads by the rivers of my memory ever smilin' Ever gentle on my mind.