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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. $*»,,,,,,,
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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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