If on thoughts of death we are fed,
Thus, a coffin, became my bed.

Have they known scorn like you
Five cellars down?

If Erik existed and lived life in despair,
We wish him to know we are here and we care.

True beauty lies not upon gilded veneers,
But found in the soul within.

The Scorpion?
The Grasshopper?
Which way will she go?

Now Leroux, what think you
Of this twist to the story?