#££@%*/-:, ,:-/*%@££#
##£@%*/-:, ,:-/*%@£##
#££@%*/-:, ,:-/*%@££#
#££@%*/-:, ,:-/*%@££#
##£@%*/-:, ,:-/*%@£##
##£@%*/-:, 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. ,,,,:/*@@@
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