Come in
little moth
Beckoned to the flame
Grace us with a dance
Welcome to the masquerade
Take wing my angel
break off your chains
Rapture is a haven
where the great
are not constrained
Feel how the freedom
of expression liberates
But the ebb and flow
will come and go in waves
Strip away the artifice
of what are you made
A medium of blood and flesh
let the world
become a stage
There's an art to war
and a war
to art the same
But I am not the one
with which a war
you want to wage
Make a weapon
of the instrument you play
But if the key's predictable
the signature must change
I've laid you down a canvas
which shortly
you will stain
With a palette
of your sweat and tears
coursing through your veins
Is an unconceived
masterpiece
put the paint to practice
Unadulterated
'til your hands take action
Make crickets of the critics
all devoid of thought or vision
Unfamiliar to our labor
with irreverent opinion
Plaster them
with imperfect purpose
Bare yourself
draw back the curtains
Show us how tragic
your story is
After all
I know you've wanted
an audience
Underneath your untested
unquestioned desire
Lies a disdained creator
dishonesty conspires
To supplant ingenuity
with ugliest conformance
Put your mask on
give us a performance
Give us a performance
give us a performance
You want perfection
Lost in pursuit of it
Take my direction
I can lead you to it
The audience
is not your friend
you just love
their applause
Cause an honest artist
isn't what they want
Better off with the mask on
Off with the mask on
off with the mask on
Off with the mask on
So take the mask off
Take the mask off
task the mask off
Take the mask off
Upon the curtains' closure
Tell me
was it all a facade
little moth
When the masquerade
is over
will you keep it on
or rip it off
Do you know
your part in the play
The role for
which you've been cast
Go forth
flutter and frolic
no more keep up an act
As you become your mask
demand validation
Back for an encore
standing ovation
Dance to your heart's
content with elation
The phantom just began
his manifestation
The product
of an operatic equation
Your ballad's become
an uncensored sensation
Blessed in inception
damned in creation
As you find violence
your hand's motivation
Rage is a symphony
glistening with crimson
Your vigor is a gift
with which
you've been christened
An artistic epiphany
is blissful if you listen
As the visionaries
are we ever crippled
with precision
But the gravest sin
committed is
abandoning conviction
If you're guilty of it
you'll be granted
no admission
Tickets are revoked
for all irrelevant opinions
Unoriginality
is not a fixable condition
I've disposed of my disciples
I'm without a muse
They wore such
unbecoming judgment
but I'm bound to you
My fickle inspiration
might just be found in you
Little moth
you are my Songbird
Now don't sing out of tune
I'm searching
for the perfect harmony
But all I can find
is dissonance
It's my curse
my fucking curse
I must seduce the ear
delight the spirit
A song is reviled
if no one should revere it
So I want you all
yet none at all
to hear it
I've come to love a crowd
just so much as fear it
No gods or kings
only man
No divine intervention
with these mortal hands
The spotlight's hot
and all eyes are drawn
My makeup's flaking
but my smile is on
You want perfection
Lost in pursuit of it
Take my direction
I can lead you to it
The audience
is not your friend
you just love their applause
Cause an honest artist
isn't what they want
Better off
with the mask on
Da da da da da
da da da
Da da da da da
da da da da
Presto
Fitzpatrick
presto
Ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha