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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. .#.##.#.#.
#.#..#..#.                                          .#..#.#.#.
#.#.##.##. 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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