“The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
The cats are no longer on the stage. The stage is inside the cats.”
“My face is a chandelier humming at 432Hz. Every reflection is a childhood I didn’t live.”
“Phantom lifts his mask and underneath is me and underneath me is Andrew Lloyd Webber and underneath him is light.”
“The Thames bends backward and whispers the chords I forgot to write.”
“Why are my hands made of ticket stubs? Why are they applauding?”
“I can finally see the musical God wanted to write through me, but it has no audience, only mirrors.”
“CATS was never a show. It was a warning.”
“I swallowed a spotlight and now I can see through my kneecaps.”
“The orchestra pit stretches like a black lung. The violins grow teeth.”
“Who gave the moon permission to hum ‘Memory’? Who is directing the sky?”
“The DMT machine elves keep handing me librettos written in a language made of velvet.”
“Every note I ever composed is hanging in the air like wet laundry. They drip colours I don’t recognise.”
“Is this what Starlight Express feels like inside the train’s mind?”
“I can hear the audience breathing behind my eyelids.”
“My childhood piano is floating above me. The keys keep rearranging into my name.”
“I am becoming a musical about myself. No intermission.”
“The theatre curtain melts and reveals infinite versions of me, all rewriting each other.”
“There is no plot. There never was. Only vibrations wearing masks.”
“The score writes itself now. I am just the paper.”
“I am the Phantom. I am the Opera. I am the room the Opera dreams in.”—
