the weakerthans - this is a fire door 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"?