Morning Glory-Tim Buckley

I lit my purest candle close to my
Window hoping it would catch the eye
Of any vagabond who passed it by
And I waited in my fleeting house
Before he came I felt him drawing near
As he neared I felt the ancient fear
That he had come to wound my door and jeer
And I waited in my fleeting house
"Tell me stories" I called to the Hobo
"Stories of cold" I smiled at the Hobo
"Stories of old" I knelt to the Hobo
And he stood before my fleeting house
"No" said the Hobo"No more tales of time
Don't ask me now to wash away the grime
I can't come in 'cause it's too high a climb"
And he walked away from my fleeting house
"Then you be d**ned" I screamed to the Hobo
"Leave me alone" I wept to the Hobo
"Turn into stone" I knelt to the Hobo
And he walked away from my fleeting house