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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. @@@@¨¨¨@@@
@¨¨@¨¨¨@@¨ ¨¨¨@¨¨@¨¨@
@¨@@¨¨@¨@@ 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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