§§¨¨§§§¨¨§                                          ¨¨§¨§¨¨§§§
§§¨§¨§§¨§§                                          ¨§§¨§¨§¨§§
§§¨§¨¨§¨¨§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨¨§
§§¨§¨§§¨§§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§                    ££                    §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
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§§¨§¨§§¨§§                  £    £                  §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
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§§¨§¨§§¨§§                    ££                    §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§            # #-----------# #             §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§     ## #  # # # Fey Bells # #  # ## #    §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§            # #-----------# #             §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§ Envelop Me In Noise... A Sandstorm Of    §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§ Sound... And Sure Enough, Between The    §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§ Grains There Are Calls From Other        §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§ Worlds -                                 §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§ Distant Wailing Sirens, Coming Closer    §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§ But Staying Out Of Reach... Telling Me   §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§ That Something Is Happening, Perfuming   §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§ Me With Someone Elses Excitement         §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§ The Phone Ringing, A Certain Phone From  §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§ A Job Long Lost, Urging For Someone To   §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§ Pick Up                                  §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§ And At Times, When I'M Almost Drowning   §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§ In This Metaphorical Sand, Breathing     §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§ It, The Veil Is Next To Breached... I    §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§ Hear Flutes, Sines, Repeating Themes     §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§ Like Were They Calls From Rubbery        §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§ Birds... Deafeningly Loud!               §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§ But Like A Mirage, Constantly            §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§ Evaporating And Reforming.               §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§ And Not Really Touching My Eardrums.     §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
§§¨§¨§§¨§§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨
¨§¨§¨¨§¨¨§                                          §¨§¨§¨§¨§¨