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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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