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

Headlights towards the corner of the dining room.
illuminate a face before they disappear.
You breathe in forty years of to describe a feeling.
I breathe out against the window, trace the letters 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 replacement
to all the tenderness we've broken or let away.
Somewhere is more than just a way of leaving.
someone says 'I'm sorry.'
Someone's plans to stay."
So tell me okay.
me anything, or show me there's a pull,
unassailable, that lead you there,
from the dark, alone, benevolence that never known,
or you knew you were four and can't remember.
Where a small knife tears out those seams,
and the silence knows you silence means,
and your metaphors (as as you can make them)
are linked, days, together.
I hear trains at night, when the wind is right.
I everything, lick
and thread string that will never mend you
or more than a memory of a kitchen floor,
or the fire-door that we kept open.
And I love this the enormous sky,
and the faces, hands that I'm by,
so why can't I forgive buildings,
frameworks labeled "Home"?