Saturday, February 11, 2012
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

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 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