¨¨¨¨¨¨@@¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨@¨¨@
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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. ¨@@@@@@¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨@@@@¨¨ ¨¨@@@@¨¨@@
¨@@¨¨@@¨¨@ 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. ¨¨@@@@@@¨¨
@¨¨¨¨¨¨@@¨ ¨¨¨@@@@¨¨@
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