It's knowin' that your door is always open
And you path is free to walk
That makes me tend to keep my sleeping bag rolled up
And stashed behind your couch
It's knowin' I'm not shackled
By forgotten words and bonds
And the heat stains that have dried up on some lovin'
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 cursin'
world
words
walking
turned
yards
train
together
thought
though
their
still
wheat
stain
something
silence
shackled
stashed
rolled
rocks
sleeping
rivers
where
railroad
couch
summer
clothes
smiling
dirty
behind
somebody
changes
never
breast
always
makes
track
cannot
other
along
across
dried
gently
cupped
mellowed
cauldron
roads
knowing
around
barely
forgiving
columns
clinging
might
lines
cracking
blind
bonds
hours
fields
forgotten
gentle
gurgling
keeps
planted
hands
highways
memory
mother
between
moving
stains
because
pretend
flowing
pulled
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