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