¨&&¨&&¨&&¨ &¨&&¨¨&¨&¨
¨&&¨&&¨&&¨ ¨¨&&&¨¨¨¨&
¨&&¨&&¨&&¨ ¨¨&¨&&¨¨¨¨
¨&&¨&&¨&&¨ &¨¨¨&&&¨¨¨
¨&&¨&&¨&&& &&¨¨&¨&&¨¨
¨&&¨&&¨&¨& 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. ¨¨¨¨&¨&&¨&
¨&&&¨¨&¨&& ¨¨¨¨¨¨&&¨¨
¨&¨&&¨¨¨&& &¨¨¨¨¨&&&¨
¨¨¨&&&¨¨&¨ ¨&¨¨¨¨&¨&&
&¨¨&¨&&¨¨¨ ¨¨&¨¨¨¨¨&&
&&¨¨¨&&&¨¨ &¨¨&¨¨¨¨&¨