"God save my soul," a stranger said to me
I left in fright thinking he was crazy
Little did I know, I was right
For sitting on that park bench
Was the demon of poetry
Who is this man, dead on the streets
What was his tale, what were his dreams
Ill was his look, but never a sign
And the pitch-black birds ate his flesh
Madness makes me see the pendulum swing
Dreadfully nervous was I, when I heard his beating heart
Walled inside the catacombs without a drop of sherry
Masquerade and the dance of death, be wary nevermore
Who is this man, dead on the streets
What was his tale, what were his dreams
Ill was his look, but never a sign
We did not know it was Poe in the gutter
Who is this man, dead on the streets
What was his tale, what were his dreams
Ill was his look, but never a sign
We did not know it was Poe in the gutter