At the Edge of the Abyss

Dear Diary: The doctor at the hospital took one look at the story I wrote and mmm-ahmmmm-mmm-mmm'ed. I guess that is not good. The doctor then suggested I try music, if not the notes, the lyrics. Ever game to try anything cure myself, I struggled with my new endeavor.

Sitting in the gloom of my simple but austere room as the sun sets on yet another day I think to myself, "Put yourself in Andrew Loydd Weber's shoes, perhaps 'The Phantom of the Opera' needs new words."


Christine
All round my humble house
I know they're there.
They're with me on the road,
They're everywhere.
And when my ride begins,
I always find...
The orange cones and striped barrels are there
Inside my mind....

The Orange Cone
Oh! you photograph me
Our strange duet.
My power over you
Grows stronger yet.
You expose your film for me
Your love is blind.
Com-pul-sion binds
The orange cones and striped barrels are now
Your mastermind.

Christine
Those who have seen my fate
Draw back in fear;
You are the shots I take,

The Orange Cone
It's me they fear.

Christine / The Orange Cone
Your/My spirit and my/your film/vice
In one combined
The orange cones and striped barrels are there
Inside my/your mind

Choir (very, very soft)
The orange cones and striped barrels
Are there
The orange cones and striped barrels...

--------------------
Howling in rage, I rip the paper from my pad and crumble it up in to a tight ball and tear at my hair. I despair of ever getting better. I hurl myself against the door of my room when to my amazement, the door swings open to the long and deserted hallway... ...I make good my escape.