¨#¨¨¨##¨#¨                                          ¨#¨##¨¨##¨
##¨¨#¨#¨#¨                                          ¨#¨¨#¨#¨#¨
¨#¨##¨#¨#¨                                          ¨#¨##¨#¨#¨
##¨¨#¨#¨#¨                                          ¨#¨¨#¨#¨#¨
¨#¨##¨#¨#¨                                          ¨#¨##¨#¨#¨
##¨¨#¨#¨#¨ 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. ¨#¨¨#¨#¨#¨
¨#¨##¨#¨#¨                                          ¨#¨##¨#¨#¨
##¨¨#¨#¨#¨ 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.   ¨#¨##¨#¨#¨
##¨¨#¨#¨#¨                                          ¨#¨¨#¨#¨#¨
¨#¨##¨#¨#¨                                          ¨#¨##¨#¨#¨
##¨¨#¨#¨#¨                                          ¨#¨¨#¨#¨#¨
¨#¨##¨#¨#¨                                          ¨#¨##¨#¨#¨
##¨¨#¨#¨#¨                                          ¨#¨¨#¨#¨#¨