I lit my purest candle   Close to my window   Hoping it would catch the eye   Of any vagabond who had passed it by   And I waited in my fleeting house      Before he came   I felt him drawing near   Asked him in   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.      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 hard a climb   And he walked away from my fleeting house      Then you'll 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