,:~/%%#¶##                                          ##¶#%%/~:,
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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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