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..^-:^££## 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. ##££^:-^..
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..^-:^££## 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. ##££^:-^..
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..^-:^££## We'Re  Off  The  Season When  The  Birds ##££^:-^..
.^-:^££### Sing Beautifully. These Days  It'S  Just ###££^:-^.
..^-:^££##       Screeches, Or Calls For Help.      ##££^:-^..
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..^-:^££## I  Think   Of  The  Jackdaw   I   Maimed ##££^:-^..
.^-:^££###   Yesterday. I Fear The Dreaming gate.   ###££^:-^.
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