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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.      &,&,&&,&,&
,&,&,&,&,&                                          &,&,,&,&,&
,&,&,&,&,& I  Think   Of   The  Jackdaw  I   Maimed &,&,&&,&,&
,&,&,&,&,&   Yesterday. I Fear The Dreaming gate.   &,&,,&,&,&
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