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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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