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