The Key

From behind the door, I feel a breeze A scent of living, that was meant to please me From behind the door I hear a whisper as Soft as a picture, carved from water As I slide the iron plate below the handle A shaft of light hits me like a million candles I see the forest, a ballroom, I see an empty street Like a thousand puzzles ready to complete I see every colour and colours that aren't invented I see golden medals that are yet to be presented For the only time I get pleasure from torment I cannot touch, I can only see But the pure desire, to touch the living scent But to open up the door, I need I need the Key etc.