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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. ,,»/%§@@##
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#@@§$%/»,, I Think Of The Jackdaw I Maimed ,,»/%$§@@#
@@§$/»»,,, Yesterday. I Fear The Dreaming gate. ,,,»»/$§@@
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