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 breathe in forty years of failing to a feeling.
I breathe out smoke against the window, trace the in your name.
Our letters sound the
of all our changing that isn't change at all.
All lines circle sometime.
You said "Somewhere there's a box full of parts
to all the tenderness we've or let rust away.
Somewhere sympathy is more just a way of leaving.
Somewhere someone 'I'm sorry.'
making plans to stay."
So tell me okay.
Tell me anything, or me there's a pull,
unassailable, that lead you there,
from the dark, alone, that you've never known,
or you knew when you were and can't remember.
Where a small knife tears out those seams,
and the silence what you silence means,
and your (as mixed as you can make them)
are linked, days, together.
I still hear trains at night, the wind is right.
I everything, lick
and thread this string that will never you
or tailor more than a of a kitchen floor,
or the fire-door we kept propping open.
And I love this the enormous sky,
and the faces, hands that I'm by,
so why I forgive these buildings,
these labeled "Home"?