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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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