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

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