.@@@.@@..@                                          .@..@@@.@@
@..@@.@.@.                                          @@.@..@@.@
@.@.@@@@@@                                          .@@@.@.@@.
@@@@.....@                                          @..@@@@.@@
...@....@.                                          @.@...@@..
..@@...@@@ 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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