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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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