Texty: Ghost. A New Trick For The Old Dog.

I talked to this city
From the cracks we all fell through
It had nothing to say and so I stayed
This will be my rebutle
With open mouths and empty spoons
With class in evenings and afternoons
I talked to the right people
From the years we all fell through
They had much to say and so I left
This will be my rebutle
The ways we bend untill we break
We're breaking down
The ways we mold untill we fit

It never fit
This puzzle piece
It never fit
So sand edges and force fixture
Had much to say and so I stayed this will be my rebutle