Lyrics:

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