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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. ¨¨¨&¨&¨¨¨¨
¨&&¨¨&¨&&¨ &¨¨&&&&¨¨¨
¨&¨&¨&&&¨& 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. &¨¨&&&¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨&&¨&&¨¨ &&¨&¨¨&¨¨¨
¨¨¨&¨&&¨&¨ 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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