Why have you brought us here? To take me back there. We must return. He'll kill me. His eyes will find me there. Does he really say that? Those eyes that burn and bleed. Don't even think it. He has to kill a thousand men. Forget this waking nightmare. The Phantom of the Opera will kill and kill again. This phantom is a fable. Believe me, there is no Phantom of the Opera. By God, who is this man? By God, who is this man? Who harms to kill? This mask of death. I can't escape from him. When might the light, the fire of the opera's near? Inside my mind there is no phantom of the opera. All I've been there, to his world of unending night, to a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness. For all I've seen him, can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face so distorted, deformed? It was hardly a face in that darkness, darkness. But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound. In that night there was music in my mind. And through music my soul began to soar. And I heard as I'd never heard before. What you heard was a dream and nothing more. Yet in his eyes all the sadness of the world was pleading eyes and no pleasure at all. Christine, Christine, Christine. What was that? La, la, la, la, la. Christine!