§;~:¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨:~;§
;~:¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨:~;
~:¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨:~
:¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨:
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ 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 ¨¨¨¨¨¨:~;§
$§;~:¨¨¨¨¨ Tracks Once Disturbed The Clover Field. ¨¨¨¨¨:~;§$
@$§;~:¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨:~;§$@
@@$§;~:¨¨¨ We'Re Off The Season When The Birds ¨¨¨:~;§$@@
#@@$§;~:¨¨ Sing Beautifully. These Days It'S Just ¨¨:~;§$@@#
##@@$§;~:¨ Screeches, Or Calls For Help. ¨:~;§$@@##
#@@$§;~:¨¨ ¨¨:~;§$@@#
@@$§;~:¨¨¨ I Think Of The Jackdaw I Maimed ¨¨¨:~;§$@@
@$§;~:¨¨¨¨ Yesterday. I Fear The Dreaming gate. ¨¨¨¨:~;§$@
$§;~:¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨:~;§$
§;~:¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨:~;§
;~:¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨:~;
~:¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨:~
:¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨: