The Note on the Pillow
Words and Music © Bill Dobbins
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He came into Junction City one afternoon in May.
Thought he’d have a cup of coffee at Hildy’s Roadside Café.
Hildy was working the counter; she caught the stranger’s glance.
He lay beside her all that night, she never had a chance.

And She never knew much about him,
Who he was or where he’d been,
From the way he looked over his shoulder,
She knew she’d be losing him

There’d be a note on the pillow,
Some early morning soon.
She’d wake to read the words he’d left
In the empty room.

Feeling like this again, that again
Time to move on again
Time to believe that my leaving is best again
Time to move on

I stayed too long, should have gone,
Though you’ve done nothing wrong.
There’s just a time when a man’s got to go
Got to be moving on.

The café was almost empty,
That night when the phone call came.
Your man’s been shot down by the sheriff in town,
You better come right away.

He lay in the dust by the roadside,
Cut down by the sheriff’s gun.
Oh Hildy don’t cry, ‘cause if I have to die,
It’s because of the things I’ve done.

I hijacked a load in Tucson,
Didn’t mean the trucker no harm.
But if he hadn’t died I’d still be by your side,
Held safe and warm in your arms.

Now she lies all alone in the bedroom,
Empty and broken inside.
And she reads from the note on her pillow,
Her man’s last words goodbye.