Hobo Song

When I am a hobo, and lying in the cold / I’ll think about you, I’m gettin’ old / Once, my friend, your door was wide open / The fire was bright, and I lay on the kitchen floor / But now you don’t talk to me no more / And I’m afraid the way inside is broken / I remember when your door was open

When I am a hobo, and lying in the street / I’ll think about you, and what we would eat / When we was so close together / Makin’ different recipes every day / I still remember the words you’d say / We’d make up different stews for every weather / Yes, I recall just when we was together

When I am a hobo, and dark grabs me by surprise / I’ll still be thinking of your bright eyes / Back when our love was new and they were open / You’d share every word you’d say / You’d write me every night and day / I can’t believe your countenance has grown dim / Yes, I recall how love held our eyes open

I’m sure you’d say I’ve done something to have caused it / Like writing or thinking too much; I might have lost it / But, Darling, I feel broken and I’m frostbit / And I remember when your mind was open

When I am a hobo, and folks who walk by stare / I won’t be thinkin’ much, I won’t care / I’m still held in the warmth of your eyes, Babe / It sure do catch these feelin’s by surprise, Babe / How thoroughly you asked for our goodbyes, Babe / As I lay on the ground with my heart open

Yes, the sweet lines connecting yours and mine have grown dim / But I remember how love held our hearts open