Morning Glory Songtext
von 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
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
But 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 he stood 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