| When I find the living a bore
|
| There’s a place I go
|
| I answer the call, go over a wall
|
| Where the crosses are all in a row
|
| Mind the trees, get down on my knees
|
| There’s a hole in the gate
|
| I look 'round, that I won’t be found
|
| And sit down next to his grave
|
| If you squirm at the Conqueror Worm
|
| This is no place for thee
|
| Or if you fright at the mere site
|
| Of the corpse of my Annabel Lee
|
| If you fear there’s something you hear
|
| A heart beating under the floor
|
| Still your heart, there’s no need to start
|
| It’s just me having tea with Lenore
|
| Sit here on the ground
|
| Dead leaves in the trees all around you
|
| Come enter this land
|
| Take this book in your hands
|
| If you find the living a bore
|
| There’s a place you can go Answer the call, go over the wall
|
| Where the crosses are all in a row
|
| Mind the trees, get down on your knees
|
| Sneak in just like the breeze
|
| Look 'round, though you won’t be found
|
| It’s just you, Edgar Allen and me Sit here on the ground
|
| Dead leaves in the trees all around you
|
| Come enter this land
|
| Take this book in your hands |