I can't quit her She got a hold on me She got her hand on my soul I can't quit her 'Cause I see her face everywhere I go In the city streets, in the
called to the hobo Stories of old, I smiled to the hobo Storie of cold, I wept to the hobo As he stood before my fleeting house No, said the hobo, no
I called to the hobo Stories of old, I smiled to the hobo Storie of cold, I wept to the hobo As he stood before my fleeting house No, said the hobo,
