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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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