The

Count Of Monte Cristo Music by Frank Wildhorn

Mercedes / Monte Cristo Lyrics by Jack Murphy
Arranged by Kawyn

I know those eyes / This man is dead

  
             

   

          
 = 112

   

          
My God, my heart beats fa ster and my mind is ra cing.

     
 

        

 rall..   
 
                   
    
5

 
    
Could it be? Could it be that you've come back to life?

      

    
    
               
9  = 104

 
I know those eyes fo lo wing me, Dark and fa mi liar and deep as the

       
               










   
                 

16

        

sea. I know that face, strangethough it seems youn ger and kin

 
       
       








    
    
   
        
     
22

der it haunts all my dreams. How can you stand there a

     
  
             
   
    


  


 
                 

27

whis per from me, yet some how be so far a way? In

               
                  
     

    
                         
  
33

                        
    
eyes once fa mi liar a stran ger I see with so ma ny words left to

       
      

   
                    
       
39  = 112

say. This man is dead... he is no more. He died a lit tle each

                     

     

    
  


   
 
2
 
  
                  

44

 

   
      
day. Like a thief the Cha teau d'If has sto len him a


 cresc.

   
    

   

                   
               
48

      
way. The mind plays tricks, you are con fused. The man you seek is long

              

     

    


    
  
     
           
        
52

       

gone. Dead and cold, a sto ry told by those he trus ted, those he loved, and


 cresc.

      
      
 = 104
      
                  
     
rall..


57

 

   
    
those who then moved on.

 
 cresc.

           

               
 
                            
63

         
There in that voice


I am a ghost, just a mi rage, who cha ses

    
               
       




3
  
    
                     
68

 

      

tra ces of you. Dark and fa mi liar and deep as the sea.


       
tra ces of you. This man is

  
   
  





                     
        
74

     

         

          
tor tu ring me. Can ei ther of

        


dead, he is no more, and though is's

      
         
         
            
 
79

    


9

             

us real ly ev er be free? How can you stand there a

   
 

      
        
      
        


84

 

           
                  
whis per from me, when you are still so far a way? And


 
     
 

4
        
        
             

90

  

                    

why does the truth seems too hard to be true, with so much bro ken and

    


  

         
  
95 rall..

so much da mage there are no words left to

   
        

          
   rall.. 
 
                     
 = 80

  
97

say...

 


  
 


             
       
  