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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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