I get the Feeling like I'm stuck in a small room,
A room filled with mirrors reflecting all the things I've done wrong,  
A room surrounded by the sounds of my pain and agony,
A room that seems to cave in more and more as I grow more alone,
I was so used to being in this room,  
Until you painted a door into it,
And now I got a taste of  heaven,
I just wish you were still there holding the door,
But I guess you got tired of trying to show beauty  to someone who all their life has seen ugliness
the door is still open,
But I can't make a choice,
I'm torn apart from knocking on the doors of heaven,  
Or opening the gates to hell,
Im so used to the demons filling the Cracks of my heart,  
That it's hard for me now to let an angel hold me.