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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. ¨~~:::::*&
##@£&%*:~¨ ¨~:*%&£@##
&***::~¨¨¨ I Think Of The Jackdaw I Maimed ¨¨¨~::***&
£%%::~~¨¨¨ Yesterday. I Fear The Dreaming gate. ¨¨¨~~::%%£
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