,,,,,~;;*& &*;;~,,,,,
,,,~-§§*&@ @&*§§-~,,,
,,,,,,-§&& &&§-,,,,,,
,~-;§*&@## ##@&*§;-~,
,~-;§*&@## ##@&*§;-~,
,~-;§*@### 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. ###&*§;-~,
,~-;§*&@## ##@&*§;-~,
,,,,,-;*&@ @&*;-,,,,,
,~-;§*&@## ##@&*§;-~,
,~-;§*&@## ##@&*§;-~,
,~-;§*&@## ##@&*§;-~,