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,,,«†%%£## I FOLLOW THE  TIRE TRACKS WEST.  THEY GO ##£%%†«,,,
,,«†%%£### PARALLEL  WITH  THE  RAILROAD, WITH  ITS ###£%%†«,,
,,,«†%%£## ENDLESS  MIRRORS LOOKING KINDA  OILY. AN ##£%%†«,,,
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,,,«†%%£## A  WIRE FENCE TO SEPARATE THE TWO ROADS. ##£%%†«,,,
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,,,«†%%£## EVEN THOUGH THERE'S A FOGGY  QUALITY  TO ##£%%†«,,,
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,,«†%%£### 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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