His life started out in despair, to his mother it was quiet unfair.
To have a son so ugly, a son so anathematized.
The boy's face was pure hell, and in it everyone dwelled.
No one could see past it, could see the beauty.
The boy's mother sent him away, for his face he would pay.
He was put on display, a freak of nature.
Every day he was laughed at, his only friends were rats.
He was raped, abused, and beaten.
He lived this hell, until one day he broke from his shell.
The poor boy was out of options.
Around his master's neck he put a noose, and made it anything but loose
The boy's first murder.
He had nowhere to go, where his mother was he didn't know.
His mother didn't care anyways.
He found refuge in the Opera house, hiding in the cellars like a mouse.
No one knew he was there.
In the cellar he made a lair, he felt at home there.
But he was alone.
He was depressed, until he heard a cry, coming from a child, he guessed.
Her name was Christine.
Christine's father had died, so for hours she cried.
She was now an orphan.
From his hiding place he said, "Are you crying for the dead?"
She said she was.
He called to her, "I'm here now, and your crying I will not allow."
Christine now felt hopeful.
"Are you my Angel of Music? Father promised him when he was sick."
"I am," He replied.
"Sing for me, please. To set my mind at ease."
He had always loved to sing.
And so a sweet song he sung, around the room his voice rung.
And she smiled.
She was the only one who could see, the genius that was he.
He began to love her.
As years passed, he taught her to sing, and to him she began to cling.
But she thought he was an angel.
One day, her former friend came, Raoul was his name.
Raoul loved her.
His jealousy arose when he found out, at Raoul he wanted to shout.
He wanted to win Christine over.
So he then made a plan, to show Christine he was a man.
He appeared in her mirror.
He brought her to his underground lair, and showed her a wedding dress to wear.
She was shocked into unconsciousness.
She awoke the next day, and heard music that he played.
She was curious.
She walked to his place, and put her hands on his face.
She had to know.
She ripped off his mask, she didn't even ask.
He became filled with rage.
He pushed her down, his eyes angry and cold, she kicked herself for being so bold.
But she felt sympathy for him.
He let her return to her Raoul, that beast he found so foul.
He warned the managers with notes.
But Carlotta still sung the lead, so Buquet had to bleed.
Christine's voice was better than hers.
To the roof Christine fled, she had so many voices in her head.
And Raoul brought her comfort.
As they pledged their love for each other, he was hiding like a kid brother.
But he heard every word.
And in his pure rage, he sent the chandelier down on the crowd and stage.
He felt no regret.
He was gone for awhile, they figured he fled to a desert isle.
He came as Red Death.
He came back from his little vacation, and crashed their celebration.
Their party was ruined.
He took the ring Raoul gave Christine, he didn't care that he was mean.
He was too heart-broken.
Christine went to her father's grave, and he got an idea that was very brave.
He sung to her like he was her father.
She almost went away with him, but Raoul found out and was grim.
Raoul again took Christine away.
He and Christine preformed Don Juan, and his anger towards her was gone.
Until he again snatched his mask.
Screaming, he took her down to his lair, putting the wedding dress on her there.
She had no choice.
But on her finger, he put a ring, but she truly hated the thing.
She didn't want to marry him.
Until Raoul came to save, little did he know he would be sent to his grave.
He put Raoul in a noose.
And then he made her choose, either way he couldn't lose.
She could either love him or Raoul would die.
So she gave the poor man a kiss, and to him it was pure bliss.
And because of that, he saved Raoul.
As she turned to go, she had to give the ring back, that much she owed.
He told her he loved her.
She left with Raoul, her lover, and so he hid under a cover.
The mob entered his lair.
They were looking for the Phantom, a man the opposite of handsome.
They only found his mask.
It seemed he was gone, escaped like a con.
No one knew where he went.
And, alas, that's the story so full of tragedy none can surpass.
The story of Erik, our Phantom.
No one knew where he went, the story's been so bent.
We only know one thing.
All he ever wanted was to be loved, but instead his heart was shoved.
But can we blame Christine?
Would we act in the same way, could we wake up to that face every day?
We'll never know.
Poor Erik was forever alone, and his true beauty was never shown.
But he forever loved Christine.