,:/*%@#@##                                          ##@#@%*/:,
,,:/*%@#@#                                          #@#@%*/:,,
,,,:/*%@#@                                          @#@%*/:,,,
,,,,:/*%@#                                          #@%*/:,,,,
,,,:/*%@#@                                          @#@%*/:,,,
,,:/*%@#@# 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.   @#@%*/:,,,
,,:/*%@#@#                                          #@#@%*/:,,
,:/*%@#@##                                          ##@#@%*/:,
,,:/*%@#@#                                          #@#@%*/:,,
,,,:/*%@#@                                          @#@%*/:,,,
,,,,:/*%@#                                          #@%*/:,,,,