Morning Glory

This next song is about a hobo beating up on a collegian kid

Outside of Dallas, Texas

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

And as he neared, I felt the ancient fear

That he had come to wound my door and jeer

But I waited in my fleeting house

"Oh, tell me stories", I called to the hobo

"Stories of old", I smiled at the hobo

"Stories of cold", I wept to the hobo

And I waited 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, it's just too high a climb"

And he stood before my fleeting house

"Then you be damned!" I screamed to the hobo

"Turn into stone," I wept to the hobo

"Leave me alone," I knelt to the hobo

But he walked away from my fleeting house

Mm-do-do-doo-do, do-do-do

(Ooh-ooh-ooh, do-do)

(Ooh-ooh)