a little Monday afternoon dream pop Morning Glory I lit my purest candle close to my window Hoping it would catch the eye Of any vagabond that passed it by And Im waiting 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 Dont ask me now to wash away the grime I cant come in cause its 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 NEWMAN, THOMAS MONTGOMERY
Posted on: Mon, 27 Oct 2014 23:00:48 +0000
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