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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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