Religion is opiate for the masses," Voltaire said.
At first it seemed logical, but then, in my head,
I realized I knew of a great thousand lasses
who would oppose what was taught in history classes.
O, yes! these are the phangirls possessed,
rabidly Phantom of the Opera obsessed.
Erik - zee Fantome! - is their opiate
Forever for him they shall faithfully await,

I count myself among them, indeed --
Never shall my love for zee Fantome recede!
And of course I must go to the Opera House
Not to myself in culture douse
but to live out the worst of Fanfiction dot net
for Erik still lives in those cellars, I bet.
I'll stay in a Paris hotel, then at night,
my phangirl soul shall take its flight!

The doors of the opera will open with a creak
and reveal the Garnier's splendor antique.
At that moment I will realize I've forgotten a map
and am liable to fall into a deadly trap
that the Phantom set backstage
in the opera's golden age.
But, lo! Hark! What is that sound I hear?
Singing, in a voice I so revere!

I can't help but do the Conrad Birdie scream
(although that wasn't really a part of my dream)
as a figure appears, dark and mysterious,
in a suit and half mask that makes me delirious.
I'll gasp and then faint, that is, phaint,
and Erik shall catch me without complaint.
But then, egads, a thought in my head!
I open my eyes with impending dread --

Curses the scene is just as I feared
My phantasy has disappeared,
and tragically I realize what's happened to me:
I've fallen asleep in history!