Paroles de Morning - glory

Tim Buckley

pochette album Morning - glory
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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
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 he walked away 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

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