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