A Candle In The Gallery

...So I ran for the door but it closed in front of me

The handle locked, but she handed me the key

"Only you can unlock it now" she said and stepped away

And I remember thinking

What a strange, strange thing to say

I turned the key into the door and gazed onto the dark

She handed me a candle which she lit without a spark

So I stepped into the long, long pitch dark hall

The candle burned so dim I had to feel along the wall

The dim glow flickered as I felt m way ahead

A splinter from a picture frame pierced me, and I bled

I moved the candle closer, close enough to see

The painting of that woman smiling back at me

I examined it much closer noticed what I had not before

The date read "in the year of our lord 1854"

Suddenly a draft of cold blew the candle out

So down the black I felt my way about

Then up ahead, up ahead I could vaguely hear

The sounds of song and laughter

People in good cheer

My fingers brushing canvases, picture frames and stone

Then I felt something that chilled me to the bone

The final painting had not yet time to dry

And the door creaked open and let in a crack of light

She stood there in the doorway

She said "now you finally see"

She pointed at the portrait

And I saw, my God... It was me

It was me