• The Phantom, they called him,
    That title they gave,
    Noone cared about him,
    Only feared him to thier graves.
    He was a menace they said,
    Though wronged them he had not,
    They locked him away,
    Didn't give it a thought.
    He rapped at the bars in the cell of his mind,
    He cried out in pain at the things left behind.
    The others, they watched him,
    And laughed at his plight,
    They cared not for his troubles,
    Only mocked his suffering and fright.
    The Phantom, though tormented,
    Gave not a word,
    But sat alone in the cell,
    His one friend, just a bird.
    He knew that the people we're blinded by hate,
    They didn't see his true colors,
    These things made him wait,
    Until such a time as they would realize
    The pain they had caused him,
    The dreams dead inside.
    But the people still mocked him,
    Still tormented his soul,
    They knew not what they did,
    Or the strength that it holds,
    He have them a warning,
    One they had dismissed,
    And now was the time they would all suffer this
    Torment and agony they placed before him,
    He ripped 'part the cell
    And destroyed they're village
    They cowered in fright and they begged and they pleaded
    For the Phantom's forgiveness,
    God knows it was needed,
    But Calace the old Phantoms heart had become,
    and strewn them across the floor
    With the strike of a gun.
    And that was the end of the town that they loved,
    The buildings we're burnt
    And ashe flew about,
    Like a dove.
    The Phantom, world-weary,
    Set off on his quest,
    To rid the world of people
    That hated the rest.