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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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