A Problem In Dissonance Solved

This is a story of a stormy old road that I know.
A sad cantilever a bottle that held up its notes.
A prayer for the gantry, the concrete that held up your skull.
Mutter and melody meet, silence and truth betroth.
It’s a casual thing on an evening of microphone crow.
So fill me with amen and leave me here deaf dumb and choked.
The kids they will come out, the kids they will come out, they come.
So I will withdraw now, because eough within this world is broke.