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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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