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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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