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¤¤¨¤¨¨¤¤¨¨ ¨¨¨¤¤¨¤¤¤¤
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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. ¨¨¤¤¨¤¤¨¨¤
¤¨¤¨¤¨¨¨¤¤ ¨¤¨¤¤¨¤¨¤¤
¤¤¤¤¤¨¨¤¨¨ 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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