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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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