#@#&%*\«-¨                                          ¨-«\*%&#@#
&%***\\«-¨                                          ¨-«\\***%&
&&*\\««¨¨¨                                          ¨¨¨««\\*&&
@##&%*\«-¨                                          ¨-«\*%&##@
#&%*\--¨¨¨                                          ¨¨¨--\*%&#
&*«¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ 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. ¨¨¨¨¨-«\%#
&%\-¨¨¨¨¨¨                                          ¨¨¨¨¨¨-\%&
##%\-¨¨¨¨¨ 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. ¨-«\*%%&&#
#@#&%*\«-¨                                          ¨-«\*%&#@#
&%%*\-¨¨¨¨ 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.   ¨-«\*%&#@#
#@#&%*\«-¨                                          ¨-«\*%&#@#
#@#&%*\«-¨                                          ¨-«\*%&#@#
#@#&%*\«-¨                                          ¨-«\*%&#@#
&***«--¨¨¨                                          ¨¨¨--«***&
#&%\-¨¨¨¨¨                                          ¨¨¨¨¨-\%&#