World of rare livingness and pernicious.

Filled with music sung by a sweet angel.

Led through the lands of life by a demon.

A demon hidden behind a mask.

Quick feet pattered through the opera.

Leading the little angel to the havens of greatness.

The little angel dubbed Christine.

Loved dearly by the demon, the phantom.

Christine, oh Christine fare as a china doll.

Dainty feet dance about the stage.

Hands gracing the air with signs of praises.

The phantom, oh evil eye phantom, be kind to thy angel.

Do not twine . . .

Do not scare . . .

Do not glare . . .

Do not lie . . .

Thy little angel has done none wrong.

For she a poor soul, is vastly shown lost gratefulness.

She's has been twine, left alone soon late.

She was left in scares of others.

She has felt the glares of others.

Lies have burned her ears.

Poor little angel.

Phantom, please oh please, hear spoken words.

Guide her.

Care for her.

Teach her.

For when the angel has grown, let her fly away.

Into a far better world.

Loosen thy grip and let her be free.

Phantom, wise ghost of the farce, let her grow.

For there's other angels, just as young Christine.

Do not range on only one for the wise you have.

For now, this is fin.