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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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