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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. ,,,,,,,,,-
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\»-,,,,,,, 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. ,,,,,,-»\$
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