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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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