,,,,,^~\†£                                          £†\~^,,,,,
,,,,,,^~\†                                          †\~^,,,,,,
,,,,,,,^~\                                          \~^,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,^~                                          ~^,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,,^                                          ^,,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,,, 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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