[Verse 1] He leans into the lamplight, grief gone sharp as splinter glass, calls the bird a prophet, calls it devil as it passed. "Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore," undaunted—meaning fearless—perched above his chamber door. "Prophet! said I, thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!" the question burns before he's even finished with the level. [Chorus] "Is there—is there balm in Gilead?"— a healing drawn from scripture's door, an old remedy for sorrow that the Bible swore— "tell me truly, I implore"— "tell me—tell me, I implore!" And the only word that answers is the word he's heard before: Nevermore. [Verse 2] This home by Horror haunted, every shadow holds a name, he's begging for a medicine to smother out the flame. He knows the answer's coming, knows it walks in through the door— but torture wants a witness, so he asks it once more. No salve, no oil, no comfort, nothing gathered, nothing stored— just the black wing answering the only word it's ever roared. [Chorus] [Verse 3] Now the question climbs to heaven, heavier than any yet— will the soul with sorrow laden ever cancel this regret? "Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn"— that's the old word for a paradise, a garden never fading— will his arms once more encircle what the grave has since erased? [Bridge] "It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore"— the rare and radiant lady from the opening of the door, the name that lit the candle now has nailed it to the floor. Full circle, closed completely—nothing left to ask for more. [Chorus] [Verse 4] Scholars write of symbols, poets trace the raven's flight, but the man who asked the question still repeats it every night. Is it memory or madness that keeps calling out her name? Is it mourning or obsession burning steady as the flame? Does the answer change with distance, does the wound forget to bleed, or does every door that opens plant another bitter seed? [Bridge 2] Some say grief's a visitor, some say grief's a tenant now, moved in with the furniture, took an oath, repeats a vow. Every door he opens leads him back to that same hall, every question he can summon meets the same unyielding wall. [Chorus] [Outro] Male: Two syllables, one verdict, carved in frozen tone— Female: Nevermore... Male: No balm, no Aidenn, no embrace— Both: just him, the dark, alone. Nevermore. Nevermore.
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