##@#@%:«,¨ ¨,«:%@#@##
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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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