Tim Buckley – Morning-glory lyrics

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 damned!? 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