Morning Glory

I lit my purest candle close to my Window, hoping it would catch the eye Of any vagabond who pa*sed it by And I waited in my fleeting house Before he came, I felt him drawing near And as he neared, I felt the ancient fear That he had come to wound my door and jeer But I waited in my fleeting house "Oh, tell me stories", I called to the Hobo "Stories of old", I smiled at the Hobo "Stories of cold", I wept to the Hobo And I waited in 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, it's just too high a climb" And hestood before my fleeting house "Then you be damned", I screamed to the Hobo "Turn into stone", I wept to the Hobo "Leave me alone", I knelt to the Hobo But he walked away from my fleeting house