Liquid Lenore
With a whisper from his evil muse
The poet writes his sin
He tries to resist but can't refuse
The evil draws him in
Inspired by drink he writes of death
A raven becomes his choice
With rancid whiskey upon his breath
He gives his words a voice
He actually heard that raven speak
Like none he'd heard before
In whispers from a voice so weak
He heard him say Lenore
He tries his best but to no avail
The bottle he couldn't ignore
The spirits in the bottle fail
And again he hears Lenore
"Go way damn bird," the poet screams
But the raven stands his ground
He takes a drink from his bottle of dreams
Where the spirit of Lenore is found
One more sip is all it takes
As the words begin to blur
Night after night the bottle speaks
As the raven begins to stir
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