My fingers touch the wooden door
Or is it made of steel? or ice?
I have no choice. not anymore.
It's now the time to pay the price

I have a mission. I must leave
(Or that's what I enjoy to think)
My senders I must not deceive
I'l close this door, my bell will ring

I have this voice inside my head
I know it deep inside my soul
Out of this door I wasn't sent
I have no mission and no goal

My mission is to live my life
Outside the wooden-icy door
And be, after I take the dive,
What I have never been before

I pack, with this thought in my mind,
All I have ever had
I take myself, my dreams, my pride
The happy and the sad

I take a last long look around
I'll never see it all
"Goodbye, past life" I think aloud
Walk out, and close the door