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