Tim Buckley - Morning Glory download song

Song Lyrics

no more tales of time
i lit my purest candle close to my
Then you be damned i screamed to the hobo, don t ask me now to wash away the grime Tim, before he came i felt him drawing near
Leave me alone, i wept to the hobo, as he neared i felt the ancient fear
Stories of cold, i smiled at the hobo, leave me alone, i wept to the hobo
Tell me stories, i called to the hobo, leave me alone, i wept to the hobo

Don t ask me now to wash away the grime, leave me alone, i wept to the hobo Buckley, turn into stone, i knelt to the hobo
stories of old, i knelt to the hobo
leave me alone, i wept to the hobo
before he came i felt him drawing near
And he walked away from my fleeting house, that he had come to wound my door and jeer Tim, no more tales of time
i lit my purest candle close to my

I lit my purest candle close to my, and i waited in my fleeting house Tim, and he walked away from my fleeting house
Don t ask me now to wash away the grime, and he walked away from my fleeting house, hoping it would catch the eye
and i waited in my fleeting house
That he had come to wound my door and jeer, and he stood before my fleeting house
and he stood before my fleeting house
Don t ask me now to wash away the grime, of any vagabond who passed it by, no, said the hobo

as he neared i felt the ancient fear
No, said the hobo, and he walked away from my fleeting house Glory, don t ask me now to wash away the grime
Then you be damned i screamed to the hobo, tell me stories, i called to the hobo
Turn into stone, i knelt to the hobo, hoping it would catch the eye
Leave me alone, i wept to the hobo, then you be damned i screamed to the hobo
As he neared i felt the ancient fear, before he came i felt him drawing near, and he walked away from my fleeting house

And he walked away from my fleeting house, tell me stories, i called to the hobo
No, said the hobo, stories of old, i knelt to the hobo
and he walked away from my fleeting house
Stories of cold, i smiled at the hobo, no more tales of time Buckley, stories of cold, i smiled at the hobo
Don t ask me now to wash away the grime, and i waited in my fleeting house, that he had come to wound my door and jeer
That he had come to wound my door and jeer, then you be damned i screamed to the hobo

and i waited in my fleeting house
and he walked away from my fleeting house
Don t ask me now to wash away the grime, stories of old, i knelt to the hobo Morning, leave me alone, i wept to the hobo
As he neared i felt the ancient fear, turn into stone, i knelt to the hobo, stories of cold, i smiled at the hobo
And he stood before my fleeting house, and he stood before my fleeting house, no, said the hobo
Tell me stories, i called to the hobo, hoping it would catch the eye, tell me stories, i called to the hobo

And he walked away from my fleeting house, as he neared i felt the ancient fear Glory, of any vagabond who passed it by
As he neared i felt the ancient fear, of any vagabond who passed it by
And he walked away from my fleeting house, tell me stories, i called to the hobo, and he walked away from my fleeting house
And he walked away from my fleeting house, i can t come in cause it s too high a climb, Buckley, tell me stories, i called to the hobo
Before he came i felt him drawing near, i lit my purest candle close to my
Stories of old, i knelt to the hobo, before he came i felt him drawing near, and he walked away from my fleeting house

And he stood before my fleeting house, hoping it would catch the eye
Before he came i felt him drawing near, and he stood before my fleeting house
Leave me alone, i wept to the hobo, and i waited in my fleeting house
tell me stories, i called to the hobo
that he had come to wound my door and jeer