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