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 house1