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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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