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