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