| His greatest work, his Opera, his heart and soul
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| Was stolen by, the one he thought, would cast the role
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| Insane with hate and anger, burned the Print-Shop to the ground
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| Badly burned, he fled to safety, hidden deep below the ground
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| Searching for The Phantom, Ghost-like in the hall
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| Waiting for The Phantom, to arrive at the curtain call
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| His music played, that haunting sound, had reached his ears
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| Angelic voice, she sang his words, so he drew near
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| He watched her as she faltered, he vowed he’d put that right
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| The Phantom of the Opera, filled them all with dread that night
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| Searching for The Phantom, Ghost-like in the hall
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| Waiting for The Phantom, to arrive at the curtain call
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| He made her sing, without a rest, in fear and Hell
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| Until she sang so perfectly, he’d taught her well
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| He watched her whole performance, full of pride he turned to go
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| He slipped and fell in silence, down to the stage below
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| Lifeless, lies The Phantom
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| Lying there, after the fall
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| Gazing at The Phantom
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| A broken man, not a ghost at all |