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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. ¨&¨&¨&¨&¨&
¨&¨&¨&¨&¨& &&¨&¨&¨&¨&
¨&¨&¨&¨&¨& ¨&¨&¨&¨&¨&
¨&¨&¨&¨&¨& &&¨&¨&¨&¨&
¨&¨&¨&¨&¨& ¨&¨&¨&¨&¨&
¨&¨&¨&¨&¨& &&¨&¨&¨&¨&