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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. ,,,,»:%%#¶
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#@¶#%%:»,, 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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