Rotting Christ The Raven
I fall from the holy empire
An angel that loosing his path
I am tormented with passion and fire
I am tormented with pride, greed and lust
The raven, once upon a midnight dreary
While I pondered, weak and weary
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping
I am dreaming flying higher and higher
I am dreaming hope, fear, love and pain
My graceful forbidden desire
They always call whisper my name
Prophet, said I, thing of evil
Prophet still, if bird or devil
Whether Tempter sent
Or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore
Desolate yet all undaunted
On this desert land enchanted
On this home by Horror haunted
Tell me truly, I implore
Is there, is there balm in Gilead?
Tell me, tell me, I implore
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore"
Deep into that darkness peering
Long I stood there wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal
Ever dared to dream before
Be that word our sign of parting
Bird or fiend, I shrieked, upstarting
Leave no black plume as a token
Of that lie thy soul hath spoken
Leave my loneliness unbroken
Quit the bust above my door
Take thy beak from out my heart
I fall from the holy empire
An angel that loosing his path
I am tormented with passion and fire
I am tormented with pride, greed and lust
And the Raven, never flitting
Still is sitting
Still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas
Just above my chamber door
And his eyes have all the seeming
Of a demons that is dreaming
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming
Throws his shadow on the floor
And my soul from out that shadow
That lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted, nevermore!
