¨¨¨¨^«^=%#                                          #%=^«^¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨^«^=%                                          %=^«^¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨^«^=                                          =^«^¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨^«^                                          ^«^¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨^«                                          «^¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨^ 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.   #¶#%=^«^¨¨
¨^«^=%#¶##                                          ##¶#%=^«^¨
¨¨^«^=%#¶#                                          #¶#%=^«^¨¨
¨¨¨^«^=%#¶                                          ¶#%=^«^¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨^«^=%#                                          #%=^«^¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨^«^=%                                          %=^«^¨¨¨¨¨