I
went to see the "Phantom" a wonderful play indeed
The
players gave such a good performance
It
would prove difficult to exceed.
The
music, the singing, the musical attributes,
The
reality of that "Phantom" in the feats he executes.
He's
behind you, he's above you,
and then he's there on centre stage,
He
demands your full attention
in
a war of nerves he does you engage.
He
appears as a reflection in the mirror of your mind,
and
then that mirror opens
and you are in a world of a different kind.
He
transports you through the sewers into his hide-away
It's
so realistic, it's so wonderful,
you
forget that its a play.
You
share with him the heartache of unrequited love,
As
you watch the players rehearsing
in
the theatre up above.
He
is passionate, demanding, demonic in his aim,
All
for the sake of one young girl
who's
love he cannot claim.
He
is cursed with mutilation
and
hides his shame behind a mask,
His
life is lived in shadowland
creating
music is his task.
A
sort of Svengali and My Fair Lady
set
to music one can but enjoy
He
devotes himself to creating her
whilst
she loves some other boy.
He
involves you, his audience
when
he tears down chandeliers,
He
has your heart held in his hand,
a
slight squeeze can bring forth tears.
You
understand his passion, his heartache and his plight
When
he tells you his own story in,
"The
Music of the Night"
There's
not a dry eye in the house as that final curtain falls,
But
the "Phantom" reaps his own rewards
with
numerous curtain calls.
Yes
we gave them standing ovations
for
their opera from the past
As
each player took their place on stage
we
applauded all the cast.
For
each of them brought something
and
they made that opera, live
They
gave everything that was asked of them,
until
there was nothing more to give.
A
truly marvelous feeling was conceived
of
words and music set to plan,
And
all this was the brainchild, the inspiration of one man.
To
have that gift is indeed a blessing, a blessing to us all,
To
set such words to music and watch we,
the
audience fill the hall.