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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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