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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. @@#%%*~^¨¨
¨¨¨^~*%%#@ @#%%*~^¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨^~*%%# 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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