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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. ,,,,,,=;†#
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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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