"Slut," said I, "You thing of evil!--
   Slut still through my heart's disheveled--
   By the heaven that flees from us--
   by the God we both ignore--
   You betrayed a soul love-laden,
   your sick and sad libido, craven,
   It shall clasp me 'round the throat
   and burn my heart for months or more;
   Clasping words within my throat,
   thought my forgiveness you implore."
       Pointing towards her, "Nevermore!"

   "Be that word our sign of parting,
   two-faced whore!" I roared upstarting--
   "Get thee back into thine tempest
   and to where you came before!
   Leave no bullshit as a token
   of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
   Leave my loneliness unbroken!
   Rotten, stinking, selfish whore!
   Take thy thorn out from my heart,
   and take thy form from my eyesore--
        I shall trust you nevermore!"

   And the crow, though never speaking,
   stood there weeping, stood there weeping
   With her lover dead and bleeding
   at our feet upon the floor;
   And her eyes held all the sorrow,
   visions of the lost tomorrows;
   And the lamplight o'er him streaming
   throws his shadow on the floor,
   And my soul from out that shadow,
   that trusts love not anymore
        May be lifted nevermore.