It sucks to be me, Christine Daae, the lead soprano at the Paris Opera house. Sure I have men at my every beck and call, but I grow tired of it. I miss the love my father had for me, and I haven't found that love since. Sure I have the obsessive love of an opera lunatic who stalks me by day and sings to me by night. Sure I have an obsessed Viscount on my tail, giving me everything my heart ever desired, but you know, it's a tough job. Dealing with the stress of two men can really do a number to you. So it sucks to be me.
You think it sucks to be Christine? I sucks to be me, Raoul de Changy. I am completely in love with my childhood sweetheart, but she is being controlled by a masked menace. I know she is, everyone is plotting against our happiness, the Phantom, Madame Giry and even the walls. I know they are out to get us, I just know they are. They all are. It sucks to be me.
No, it sucks to be me, Erik, your poor lonely Erik. Erik has to deal with stupid boys who only want to make their angel happy. All Erik wants is to create music for his beloved, and sing with her. Erik wants a wife to love and to hold but Erik can't have it because of Raoul. It sucks to be me.
It sucks to be me, Carlotta, the ex soprano. Ever since that little tramp Christine stole my lime light, I haven't had a good nights rest. I have been so worried that I will loose my job and be homeless, and poor and not rich. It almost makes me cry. It sucks to be me.
It sucks to be us, Moncharmin and Richard, the managers of the Opera House. We loose most of our profit to the masked wonder, are plagued by random letters and have to deal with the noise of Carlotta. Through all this we have to suck it up and smiled or we make no money, no money means no more Sunday brunch, and we can't be with out that. It sucks to be us.
Bull, it sucks to be me, Joseph Buquet. . . I was hung from the rafters, need I say anymore? It really sucks to be me.
You are all panzys, it blows to be me, Madame Giry. I must clean up the mess the Count and his crazy bride leave behind so I don't loose my job. I am the care taker of the masked moron who talks in third person and has the ability to dim candles. I have to bow to the wishes of her royal bitchiness Queen Carlotta while pleasing the two bimbos who love their Sunday Brunch. Plus I have a 16 year old daughter to scold. You are all pathetic. It sucks to be me.
After much consideration, everyone agreed, Christine had the worst life.