The Phantom

His greatest work, his Opera, his heart and soul
Was stolen by, the one he thought, would cast the role
Insane with hate and anger, burned the Print-Shop to the ground
Badly burned, he fled to safety, hidden deep below the ground

Searching for The Phantom, Ghost-like in the hall
Waiting for The Phantom, to arrive at the curtain call

His music played, that haunting sound, had reached his ears
Angelic voice, she sang his words, so he drew near
He watched her as she faltered, he vowed he'd put that right
The Phantom of the Opera, filled them all with dread that night

Searching for The Phantom, Ghost-like in the hall
Waiting for The Phantom, to arrive at the curtain call

He made her sing, without a rest, in fear and Hell
Until she sang so perfectly, he'd taught her well
He watched her whole performance, full of pride he turned to go
He slipped and fell in silence, down to the stage below

Lifeless, lies The Phantom
Lying there, after the fall
Gazing at The Phantom
A broken man, not a ghost at all