The stories they have detto were true
There was once a young girl like me and you
That loved to read Edgar Allen Poe
How her cuore felt Leggere his tales of woe

She lived in the 1800's
Rebellious, young and dark
She wanted to be a young Joan of Arc
As she ran away to see Poe

Virginia to Boston, a long long rode
As her parents were waiting for her at her humble abode
Then, she felt disbelief when she heard
The madness of Edgar Allen Poe

People disapproved of him
Trying to ruin her long strange trip
But she still goes on saying
She longs to hear his tales of murder, Amore and woe

One giorno she stumbled to a home
Very old and ruined
She walked inside and saw
Darkness and the stench of strong liquor

The heard a man cursing to himself
As she saw him dressed in black Scrivere in candle light
Drugged and drunk as can be
She thinks this cannot be the famous Edgar Allen Poe

She asks him of his stories
He speaks so oddly, she cannot understand his muttering
His depression goes on and on
As she backs up against the wall

Frightened at the sight
She wishes for less candle light
So she could be blinded from the monster filled with woe
The drunken and drugged Edgar Allen Poe

She ran back home,heart racing with each beat
As Edgar passed out, feeling defeat
All of the stories of murder Amore and woe
She thought they couldn't have came from this drunken man named Poe

She came back home saddened and cuore broken
Leggere his work and stories
Wondering how such great Scrivere could come from such monstrosity

The stories she really understood and connected with
The man she saw she had nothing in common with
Sad and heartbroken she still wondered how
All the stories came to be
From a person from a mad drunken stuiper
She wonders how these stories came alive onto the page