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¶&\~,,,,,, I Follow The Tire Tracks West. They Go ,,,,,,~\&¶
##¶§&%\»~, Parallel With The Railroad, With Its ,~»\%&§¶##
##¶§&%\»~, Endless Mirrors Looking Kinda Oily. An ,~»\%&§¶##
##¶§&%\»~, Incredible Power Bound There... There'S ,~»\%&§¶##
§&%»,,,,,, A Wire Fence To Separate The Two Roads. ,,,,,,»%&§
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§§%%%\»,,, Even Though There'S A Foggy Quality To ,,,»\%%%§§
§&&&%\»~~, The Air, The Path I Follow Is Glowing. ,~~»\%&&&§
###¶§%\»~, A Yellow-Green Moss Has Taken Hold ,~»\%§¶###
§%»,,,,,,, Where The Machines Who Made These ,,,,,,,»%§
##¶§&%\»~, Tracks Once Disturbed The Clover Field. ,~»\%&§¶##
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#¶§%»~,,,, We'Re Off The Season When The Birds ,,,,~»%§¶#
##¶§&%\»~, Sing Beautifully. These Days It'S Just ,~»\%&§¶##
§&\\»~,,,, Screeches, Or Calls For Help. ,,,,~»\\&§
##¶§&%\»~, ,~»\%&§¶##
#§&%»~,,,, I Think Of The Jackdaw I Maimed ,,,,~»%&§#
¶&%%\~~~,, Yesterday. I Fear The Dreaming gate. ,,~~~\%%&¶
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