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For anyone who cares to listen. One the great singer/songwriters of our time is on a farewell tour right now because he has alzheimers. He's a legend to me and many. God bless you Glen Campbell. You didn't just write songs, you wrote poetry.
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 on the backroads, by the rivers of my memory
and 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 walkin
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 movin 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 others womans' 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 a summmer sun might burn me till I'm blind
But not to where I cannot see you walkin on the backroads
by the rivers flowin gentle on my mind
I dip my cup of soup back from a gurglin, cracklin caldron in some train yard
my beard a rough'in 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 waiting from the backroads by the river of my memory
ever smilin', ever gentle on my mind...
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courtesy of BoneKrusher
"Baseball? It's just a game. As simple as a ball and bat, yet as complex as the American spirit it symbolizes. It's a sport, a business and sometimes a religion."
Ernie Harwell
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