By the time I get to Phoenix she'll be rising. She'll find the note I left hanging on her door. She'll laugh when she reads the part that says I'm leaving `Cause I've left that girl so many times before. By the time I make Albuquerque she'll be working. She'll probably stop for lunch and give me a call. But she'll just hear the phone keep on ringing, on the wall, that's all. By the time I reach Oklahoma she'll be sleeping. She'll turn softly and call my name out low. And she'll cry just to think I'd really leave her, Though time and time again I tried to tell her so. She just didn't know I would really go.