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 as he neared i felt the ancient fear that he had come to wound my door and jeer and i waited in my fleeting house tell me stories i called to the hobo stories of cold i smiled at the hobo stories of old i knelt to the hobo and he stood before 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 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