Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor
Eagerly I wished the morrow, - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore --
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore –

Quoth the Raven," said a glitching voice from the phone.

"Nevermore," said the man.

"Then the game has started

Jail's are a spooky place," remarked Bill, trying to match the pace of detective Adam.

"Oh that is nothing in front of the ultimate fear" replied detective Adam.

"Ultimate fear?"

"Funny thing that, the ultimate fear is also the ultimate relief."

"Which is?"

"Death

When clouds of pain loom in the sky
When a shadow of sadness flickers by
When a tear finds its way to the eye
When fear keeps the loneliness alive
I try and console my heart
Why is it that you cry? I ask

This is only what life imparts
These deep silences within
Have been handed out to all by time
Everyone’s story has a little sorrow
Everyone’s share has a little sunshine

No need for water in your eyes
Every moment can be a new life
Why do you let them pass you by?
Oh heart, why is it that you cry?

In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look; But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.

When we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December, how In this our pinching cave shall we discourse The freezing hours away?