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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. ,,,,,,»*†%
£%†*»,,,,,                                          ,,,,,»*†%£
#£%†*»,,,, 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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