Gentle On My Mind - Frank Sinatra (弗兰克·辛纳屈)
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 things little guys
That have dried up on some line
That keeps you in the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
That keeps you ever 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 crying to her mother
Because 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 till I'm blind
But not to where I cannot see
You walking on the back roads
By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind
I dip my cup of soup back from
A gurgling crackling cauldron
In some train yard
My beard a rustling 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 waiting from the back roads
By the rivers of my memory
Ever smiling
Ever gentle on my mind
