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§%%/»,,,,,                                          ,,,,,»/%%§
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#@@§$%/»,, I Follow The Tire  Tracks  West. They Go ,,»/%$§@@#
#@@§$%/»,, Parallel With  The  Railroad,  With  Its ,,»/%$§@@#
@§%/»,,,,, Endless Mirrors  Looking Kinda  Oily. An ,,,,,»/%§@
#@@§$%/»,, Incredible Power Bound There... There'S  ,,»/%$§@@#
@$$$%/,,,, A Wire Fence To Separate The Two  Roads. ,,,,/%$$$@
@§$%%%/»,,                                          ,,»/%%%$§@
@§§§$%/»,, Even Though There'S A Foggy  Quality  To ,,»/%$§§§@
@§$$%/»,,, The Air, The Path I  Follow Is  Glowing. ,,,»/%$$§@
#@@§$%/»,, A  Yellow-Green  Moss  Has  Taken   Hold ,,»/%$§@@#
§$%///»»,, Where  The  Machines   Who   Made  These ,,»»///%$§
##@@$%/»,, Tracks Once Disturbed  The Clover Field. ,,»/%$@@##
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§§$/»,,,,, We'Re  Off  The  Season  When  The Birds ,,,,,»/$§§
@@$$/»,,,, Sing Beautifully.  These Days It'S  Just ,,,,»/$$@@
##@@§%/»,,       Screeches, Or Calls For Help.      ,,»/%§@@##
§$/»,,,,,,                                          ,,,,,,»/$§
#@@§$%/»,, I  Think  Of   The   Jackdaw  I   Maimed ,,»/%$§@@#
@@§$/»»,,,   Yesterday. I Fear The Dreaming gate.   ,,,»»/$§@@
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