,:-†^¤£@## ##@£¤^†-:,
,,:-†^¤£@# #@£¤^†-:,,
,,,:-†^¤£@ @£¤^†-:,,,
,,:-†^¤£@# #@£¤^†-:,,
,:-†^¤£@## ##@£¤^†-:,
,,:-†^¤£@# 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. @£¤^†-:,,,
,,:-†^¤£@# #@£¤^†-:,,
,:-†^¤£@## ##@£¤^†-:,
,,:-†^¤£@# #@£¤^†-:,,
,,,:-†^¤£@ @£¤^†-:,,,
,,:-†^¤£@# #@£¤^†-:,,