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¨¨¨¨¨¨§¨¨¨ ¨§¨§¨§§¨¨¨
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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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