Look, minna, a new songfic! *points* Tomo related. (Big surprise there.) Geez, you'd think I'd run out of material on him eventually, but stuff just keeps coming. Oh, well. The more Tomo fics the better, I say. Anyway, the song is from Phantom of the Opera. It's not the whole thing. See, halfway through the song, some main characters start talking and babble on for awhile 
before they finally go back to the song. I used the first half (and it's plenty long enough).

Spoiler free, amazingly enough. Please give me some feedback? Pleaseplease? (I'm so pathetic about feedback; you guys have no idea) 

Lynn, this one is for you, because it would never have happened if you hadn't had that one stanza up at your page.

Masquerade
Paper faces on parade
Masquerade
Hide your face
So the world will
Never find you

Ryo Chuin. Tomo. The same man, with different faces? Or two opposites trapped in one body? I don't know anymore. With my makeup, I'm strong. Untouchable. Unreachable. Powerful. Without it--sometimes, I'm so afraid... But I cannot be afraid. Take the weakness, thrust it down, paint it over with the mask of impassivity, the facade of the Seiryuu shichiseishi. Never let anyone see, never let them know what lies underneath the thin layer of colors.

Masquerade
Every face a different shade
Masquerade
Look around
There's another
Mask behind you

I'm not the only one who wears such a mask. We all do. Amiboshi takes refuge in his music. Suboshi denies his violent streak under the fragile company of his twin. Ashitare avoids thought through his bestial nature, and Miboshi changes his form whenever he has too long been in one body. Soi covers her weakness in that armor she wears, and Yui disguises her doubt with hatred. And Nakago? Nakago--needs no mask. Nakago is a mask.

Flash of mauve
Splash of puce 
Fool and king 
Ghoul and goose
Green and black
Queen and priest
Trace of rouge 
Face of beast

Nothing has changed for me since I left the operahouse. It's such a farce. An elaborate waltz to the tune of which we all dance. There is no musical accompaniment here, but we all read from the same script, we act out our roles like the powerless marionettes we are. The priestess and her protecters. The Seiryuu no miko, and the Seiryuu shichiseishi. Such a pretty story. We all know it by now; it's a child's tale we learned in our youths. And we play it through, this divine performance, exactly as we should.

Faces 
Take your turn, take a ride
On the merry-go-round 
In an inhuman race

All of us, taking our turns, risking our lives, our souls for the Seiryuu no miko. We could die, we all know it. But, if we do, is that not also part of the story we're a part of? Do we have a choice? Never. We have no choices. Destiny chains us, enslaves us. And I wonder, who will be the first of us to perish, if indeed that is our fate? There's no way to know. The gods are mysterious and cruel.

Eye of gold 
Thigh of blue 
True is false 
Who is who?
Curl of lip
Swirl of gown
Ace of hearts 
Face of clown

All the masks. None of us truly knows any of the rest. Even the twins. They have their flaws, and both are too devoted to each other to recognize those weaknesses. I can't tell what is true. I can't even tell who I am anymore, much less the others. All the lies, all the half-truths. I wonder, are any of them like me? Trying so desperately to mask their pain, to hide it from the world? But none of them are as adept as I. The master of illusion, with all the background of acting and deception that I could ever need to create my mask.

Faces 
Drink it in 
Drink it up
Till you've drowned
In the light 
In the sound

The stage was once my only refuge. I tried to lose myself in the colors and the music, in the perfect worlds I helped to create. Always trying, trying to forget what would happen once the performance was over. Never think about that, never ever think about that. And now, what have I done? Exchanged one stage for another, larger, one. Traded the old, familiar script for one I've never read. And, I wonder, once this story has ended--does the same pain still wait for me, lurking in the wings?

But who can name the face?

I don't know. I pretend to know, I lie. But in truth, I know nothing. No one. Can't let the mask fall, even to cry out for help. 
Because they would never call for help, and they would never give it. Because giving it would be the same as asking for it.

Masquerade
Grinning yellows,
Spinning reds
Masquerade
Take your fill 
Let the spectacle
Astound you

So I perform, for all who care to watch me. My lines, at least, will be recited flawlessly. They will not see me falter. I know very 
well how strange I seem. I mean it to be that way. Stare all you like, take it in, absorb it. The colors of my costume, my face, always calm, never showing my emotion. Could you reach that same height of detachment? No, you never could. So watch me and be amazed by my skill.

Masquerade
Burning glances,
Turning heads 
Masquerade
Stop and stare
At the sea of smiles
Around you

There will always be an audience. I can't escape it. Someone will always be watching me. So I will give them the show for which they ask. They used to applaud for me, laughing and clapping fit to bring down the roof. Now, that emotion cannot be shown. But, thankless or not, the actor must never fall out of character. And my character is Seiryuu shichiseishi Tomo, no matter who he alienates or how many stop and stare at him as I walk down the hall.

Masquerade
Seething shadows
Breathing lies 
Masquerade
You can fool
Any friend who
Ever knew you

No one in the operahouse would know me now. Certainly not the man who took me in. I've changed from that small, frightened boy I once was. Or, if I have not changed, I have made it so that no one will ever see that boy, Chuin, ever again. Every action I take, every word, every breath, all are Tomo's, not mine. Or perhaps they are mine. I don't know myself anymore, don't know where Chuin ends and Tomo begins, or even if there is a difference.

Masquerade
Leering satyrs
Peering eyes 
Masquerade
Run and hide
But a face will
Still pursue you

Haunted and haunting. I remember people from my past, though I try to forget. I can't let that affect my performance, can't let the show stop because of my weakness. My face out of the darkness, the black paint spilling into the shadows, the white glowing like the moon, stained by the red in dark streaks, like blood. It is a mask out of nightmare, and so shall I be. Unescapable.

Masquerade
Paper faces on parade 
Masquerade
Hide your face
So the world will
Never find you

Unescapable. None of us can escape it. Our destinies, our deaths, waiting for us where we least expect them. But weakness will bring them sooner. So I paint my face. No one will see my weakness. My hope, my dream, my love. Those drown in the darkness, behind this opaque mask on my face. No one will find them. Ever. Not even me.