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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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