Luyện nghe bài hát This Is A Fire Door Never Leave Open

Headlights race towards the of the dining room.
Half illuminate a face they disappear.
You in forty years of failing to describe a feeling.
I breathe out smoke against the window, trace the letters in name.
Our letters sound the
full of all our changing that isn't at all.
All lines circle sometime.
You "Somewhere there's a box full of replacement parts
to all the tenderness broken or let rust away.
Somewhere is more than just a way of leaving.
Somewhere someone 'I'm sorry.'
Someone's making to stay."
So me it's okay.
Tell me anything, or show me a pull,
unassailable, will lead you there,
from the dark, alone, that you've never known,
or you knew you were four and can't remember.
Where a knife tears out those sloppy seams,
and the knows what you silence means,
and your metaphors (as mixed as you can them)
are linked, days, together.
I still trains at night, when the wind is right.
I remember everything,
and thread this string that will mend you
or tailor than a memory of a kitchen floor,
or the that we kept propping open.
And I love this place; the sky,
and the faces, hands I'm haunted by,
so why can't I forgive buildings,
these labeled "Home"?