Текст песни Morning Glory

(L. Beckett, T. 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
Passing near
I felt the ancient fear
That he had come to my door and jeered
And I waited in my fleeting house

Tell me stories, I called to the hobo
Stories of Cold, I smiled to the hobo
Stories of old, I knelt to the hobo
And he stood before me
In my fleeting house. Blood Sweat & Tears - Morning Glory - http://ru.motolyrics.com/blood-sweat-and-tears/morning-glory-lyrics.html

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

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