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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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