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<object><type>video</type><version>1.0</version><provider_name>Network.hu</provider_name><provider_url>http://network.hu/</provider_url><title>Waylon Jennings - Gentle On My Mind </title><author_name>apucsoka</author_name><author_url>http://network.hu/apucsoka</author_url><html>&amp;lt;object width=&amp;quot;424&amp;quot; height=&amp;quot;345&amp;quot;&amp;gt;&amp;lt;param name=&amp;quot;movie&amp;quot; value=&amp;quot;http://country.network.hu/flash/videoplayer/video.swf?videoid=488385&amp;amp;amp;pvol=40&amp;amp;amp;plang=hu&amp;amp;amp;host=http://country.network.hu&amp;quot; /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;param name=&amp;quot;allowscriptaccess&amp;quot; value=&amp;quot;always&amp;quot; /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;param name=&amp;quot;allowfullscreen&amp;quot; value=&amp;quot;true&amp;quot; /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;embed src=&amp;quot;http://country.network.hu/flash/videoplayer/video.swf?videoid=488385&amp;amp;amp;pvol=40&amp;amp;amp;plang=hu&amp;amp;amp;host=http://country.network.hu&amp;quot; width=&amp;quot;424&amp;quot; height=&amp;quot;345&amp;quot; allowscriptaccess=&amp;quot;always&amp;quot; allowfullscreen=&amp;quot;true&amp;quot; /&amp;gt;&amp;lt;/object&amp;gt;</html><width>424</width><height>345</height><duration>182</duration><description>It's knowing that your door is always open and your path is free to walk&#13;
That makes me tend to leave my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch&#13;
And it's knowing I'm not shacked by forgotten words and bons&#13;
And the ink stains that have dried upon some line&#13;
That keeps you in the back roads by the rivers of my mem'ry&#13;
Keeps you ever gentle on my mind&#13;
It's not clinging to the rocks and I'd be planted on their columns now that binds me&#13;
Or something that somebody said because they thought we fit together walkin'&#13;
It's just knowing that the world will not be cursin' or forgivin'&#13;
When I walk along some railroad track and find&#13;
That you're movin' on the back roads by the rivers of my mem'ry&#13;
And for hours you're just gentle on my mind&#13;
Though the wheet fields and the clothes lines&#13;
And the junk yards and the highways come between us&#13;
And some other woman 's cryin' to her mother cause she turned and I was gone&#13;
I still might run in silence tears of joy might stain my face&#13;
And the summer sun might burn me till I'm blind&#13;
But not to where I cannot see you walking on the back roads&#13;
By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind&#13;
I dipped my cup of soap back from a gurglin' cracklin' caltron in some train yard&#13;
My beard a roughen coal pile and a dirty hat pulled low across my face&#13;
Through cupped hands round a tin can I pretend to hold you to my breast and find&#13;
That you're waving from the back roads by the rivers of my mem'ry&#13;
Ever you're just gentle on my mind&#13;
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