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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. ¨¨,»=§£¤¶@
¶¤£§=»,¨¨¨ ¨¨¨,»=§£¤¶
¤£§=»,¨¨¨¨ 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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