¨¨¨&¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨&&&&&&&&¨
&&¨¨¨&&&&& ¨¨&&&&&&¨¨
¨¨¨&¨¨&&&& ¨¨¨&&&&¨¨¨
&&¨¨¨¨¨&&& &&¨¨&&¨¨&&
&¨¨&&&¨¨&& ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨&
¨¨¨¨&¨¨¨¨& 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. ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨&
&&&&¨¨&&&& &&&&&&&&¨¨
¨&&¨¨¨¨&&& ¨&&&&&&¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨&&¨¨&& ¨¨&&&&¨¨&&
¨&&¨¨¨¨¨¨& ¨¨¨&&¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨&&&&¨¨ &&¨¨¨¨&&&&