This Is A Fire Door Never Leave Open Lyrics - The Weakerthans

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"?