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