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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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