¨¨££¨££¨£¨                                          ¨£¨¨£¨££¨£
¨£¨£¨¨£¨£¨                                          ¨£¨££¨¨£¨£
¨£¨£¨££¨£¨                                          ¨£¨¨£¨££¨£
¨£¨£¨¨£¨£¨                                          ¨£¨££¨¨£¨£
¨£¨£¨££¨£¨                                          ¨£¨¨£¨££¨£
¨£¨£¨¨£¨£¨                    $$                    ¨£¨££¨¨£¨£
¨£¨£¨££¨£¨                  $$  $$                  ¨£¨¨£¨££¨£
¨£¨£¨¨£¨£¨                  $    $                  ¨£¨££¨¨£¨£
¨£¨£¨££¨£¨                  $$  $$                  ¨£¨¨£¨££¨£
¨£¨£¨¨£¨£¨                    $$                    ¨£¨££¨¨£¨£
¨£¨£¨££¨£¨                                          ¨£¨¨£¨££¨£
¨£¨£¨¨£¨£¨             # #»»»»»»»»»»»# #            ¨£¨££¨¨£¨£
¨£¨£¨££¨£¨    ## #  # # # 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.     ¨£¨¨£¨££¨£
¨£¨£¨¨£¨£¨                                          ¨£¨££¨¨£¨£
¨£¨£¨££¨£¨                                          ¨£¨¨£¨££¨£
¨£¨£¨¨£¨£¨                                          ¨£¨££¨¨£¨£
¨£¨£¨££¨£¨                                          ¨£¨¨£¨££¨£
¨£¨£¨¨£¨£¨                                          ¨£¨££¨¨£¨£
¨£¨£¨££¨£¨                                          ¨£¨¨£¨££¨£