Morning Glory

Morning Glory (LP版) - 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 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