¨¨^~:%@¤@#                                          #@¤@%:~^¨¨
¨¨¨^~:%@¤@                                          @¤@%:~^¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨^~:%@¤                                          ¤@%:~^¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨^~:%@                                          @%:~^¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨^~:%                                          %:~^¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨^~: 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.   %:~^¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨^~:%@                                          @%:~^¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨^~:%@¤                                          ¤@%:~^¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨^~:%@¤@                                          @¤@%:~^¨¨¨
¨¨^~:%@¤@#                                          #@¤@%:~^¨¨
¨^~:%@¤@##                                          ##@¤@%:~^¨