#@%$^~:¨¨¨ ¨¨¨:~^$%@#
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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. ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨:~^
~:¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨:~
:¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨:
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
:¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨:
~:¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨:~