By the time I get to Phoenix

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.