The Raven - Rotting Christ

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!