Morning Glory
Blood Sweat & Tears Lyrics


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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 house

Overall Meaning

The lyrics of the song "Morning Glory" by Blood Sweat & Tears revolve around a protagonist who is waiting for a vagabond to visit him. The singer lights his "purest" candle and places it near his window, hoping that it catches the attention of any passerby. When he finally gets a visitor, he lets him in with a feeling of ancient fear that he might jeer at him. The singer then calls the visitor a hobo and asks him to tell stories of old and cold. However, the hobo refuses to carry on with the tales of time and walks away from the fleeting house.


The second verse of the song is more emphatic than the first. The singer screams to the hobo that he will be damned, begs him to leave him alone and turn into stone. Despite all, the hobo walks away from the fleeting house. The singer then repeats his action of lighting the candle and waiting for any vagabond to visit him.


The song speaks of human vulnerability when trying to connect with outsiders. It is a metaphorical representation of the barriers people face when trying to communicate with others who lead a different life than theirs. The song reflects the challenges one faces in attempting to break down these barriers, and how it ultimately leads to disappointment.


Line by Line Meaning

I lit my purest candle
I held onto my purest hopes and dreams


Close to my window
I kept them close to me, within reach


Hoping it would catch the eye
Expecting that someone, anyone, would see them


Of any vagabond who had passed it by
Regardless of who they were or what they had been through


And I waited in my fleeting house
I sat and waited in my temporary home for someone to come along


Before he came
Before the hobo arrived


I felt him drawing near
I sensed his approach


Asked him in
Invited him into my home


I felt the ancient fear
I felt my natural fear of strangers


That he had come to my door and jeered
That he might have some ill intent towards me


Tell me stories, I called to the hobo
I asked the hobo to share his experiences with me


Stories of Cold, I smiled to the hobo
I requested tales of hardship, even though they might be difficult to hear


Stories of old, I knelt to the hobo
I begged for stories of the past, hoping to gain insight into my own life


And he stood before me
The hobo was in my presence


In my fleeting house.
Inside my temporary dwelling


No, said the hobo
The hobo refused my request


No more tales of time
He had shared enough stories of the past


Don't ask me now to wash away the grime
He couldn't help me clean up my own life


I can't come in 'cause
He could not enter my house because


It's too hard a climb
The effort was too great for him


And he walked away from my fleeting house
The hobo left my temporary dwelling


Then you'll be damned
I cursed the hobo for abandoning me


I screamed to the hobo
I shouted in frustration at the hobo's rejection


Leave me alone, I wept to the hobo
I pleaded for him to go away and leave me to my own struggles


Turn into stone, I knelt to the hobo
I wished the hobo would become motionless and disappear


And he walked away from my fleeting house
The hobo left me in my temporary home


I lit my purest candle
I held onto my purest hopes and dreams once again


Close to my window
I kept them close to me, within reach


Hoping it would catch the eye
Expecting that someone, anyone, would see them


Of any vagabond who passed it by
Regardless of who they were or what they had been through


And I waited in my fleeting house
I sat and waited in my temporary home for another passing stranger




Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Written by: Duke Ellington

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Most interesting comment from YouTube:

J

"Morning Glory"
(originally by Tim Buckley)

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 house...
♥️🌹♥️🌹♥️🌹



All comments from YouTube:

catman916

The producers were Bob Irwin and John Simon. Jimmy Guercio produced their second album. Steve Katz also did a wonderful vocal on that album, "Sometimes in Winter."

J

"Morning Glory"
(originally by Tim Buckley)

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 house...
♥️🌹♥️🌹♥️🌹

slugger

Beautiful. Thanks for sharing!

Stella Ercolani

What a wonderful band, such talent and voice.

james cawley

I have some strange fascination with this song that has lasted 45 years. I wish I knew what it was about. Still enjoy listening to it and thanks for posting.

Kidd Shellac

Pretty sure its about the morbid fascination some have with the lives of those less fortunate, and how - when their acts of convenient charity are rejected as disingenuous and self-serving - their actual feelings of superiority, disdain, and disgust are exposed.

John Coggeshall

Jim this song is about anything ou want it to be about----it is timeless and placeless

Mark Evans

The organ track is seared in my brain. Haunting song.

Soup Sandwich

I feel your pain/joy.

Shaun Kelly-Kenyon

probably due to the haunt of Tim Bucley

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