This Is A Firedoor Never Leave Open Lyrics

This Is A Firedoor Never Leave Open lyrics

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