,:=**£#£@# #@£#£**=:,
,,:=**£#£@ @£#£**=:,,
,:=**£#£@# #@£#£**=:,
,,:=**£#£@ @£#£**=:,,
,:=**£#£@# #@£#£**=:,
,,:=**£#£@ 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. #@£#£**=:,
,,:=**£#£@ @£#£**=:,,
,:=**£#£@# #@£#£**=:,
,,:=**£#£@ @£#£**=:,,
,:=**£#£@# #@£#£**=:,
,,:=**£#£@ @£#£**=:,,