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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. ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨,
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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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