Morning Glory

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 tears 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

"And you be damned!" I screamed to the hobo

"Leave me alone," I wept to the hobo

Turnin' to stone, I knelt to the hobo

And walked away from my fleeting house