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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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