The people are swaying side to side across the narrow aisles,
To watch the act of the season; the act of a true murder on stage,
The bullets were suppose to be fake; then again so was the play,
Turns out not everyone that is playing an actor is really acting.
As the actress hits the floor and her blood spilled across center stage,
A phantom with a half torn face makes a devilish appearance on the stage,
For his encore bow, he made the whole audience fall out of their seats,
With one wave of his hand; poison rained down from the ceiling vents.
The maniac was suppose to be another fake; turns out he was really out for murder,
As the people are lying on the floor; his devilish laugh echoes through the empty halls,
He walks by them one by one and laughs at their expressions; he’s really that cold hearted,
As the phantom turns to leave the theater, he says his final farewell to the stage play that he ruined.
