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¨¨,~;$@£## I Follow The Tire Tracks West. They Go ##£@$;~,¨¨
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¨¨,~;$@£## Endless Mirrors Looking Kinda Oily. An ##£@$;~,¨¨
¨,~;$@£### Incredible Power Bound There... There'S ###£@$;~,¨
¨¨,~;$@£## A Wire Fence To Separate The Two Roads. ##£@$;~,¨¨
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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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