Erik, Christine's Reprise

The night has lost its sad, estranged charm
My slumberless nights, my numberless ghosts
Slapped hard, slammed shut, numb, stupid, cold
Ripped from the one I love, crave, desire the most

I've dropped to my knees and succumbed to the river
Relinquished my fate to the rapids that gash my freshest wounds
I seek no comfort in angels; They won't restore you to me
Would they be angry if I decided to join you?