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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. ,,^^//*§§§
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@*%%/^^,,, 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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