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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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