&&¨&&¨¨&¨& &¨¨&&&¨&&&
¨&&¨&¨&&&& &¨&¨¨&&¨¨¨
&¨&&&&¨¨¨& &&&¨&¨&¨¨¨
&&¨¨¨&¨¨&¨ ¨¨&&&&&¨¨&
¨&¨¨&&¨&&¨ ¨&¨¨¨¨&¨&¨
&&¨&¨&&¨&¨ 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. &¨&¨&¨&¨&¨
¨¨¨¨&¨¨&¨& &&&&&&&&&&
¨¨¨&&¨&&&¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨&
¨¨&¨&&¨¨&¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨&&
¨&&&¨&¨&&¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨&¨&
&¨¨&&&&¨&¨ ¨¨¨¨¨¨&&&&