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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. ¨##¨¨¨###¨
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#¨¨#¨¨#### We'Re Off The Season When The Birds ¨####¨##¨#
¨#¨##¨#¨¨¨ Sing Beautifully. These Days It'S Just ##¨¨¨##¨##
####¨###¨¨ Screeches, Or Calls For Help. ¨¨#¨¨#¨##¨
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¨#¨¨#¨#¨## I Think Of The Jackdaw I Maimed ###¨##¨¨##
###¨#####¨ Yesterday. I Fear The Dreaming gate. #¨¨##¨#¨#¨
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