¨¨¨^~;%$£@                                          @£$%;~^¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨^~;%$£                                          £$%;~^¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨^~;%$                                          $%;~^¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨^~;%                                          %;~^¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨^~;                                          ;~^¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨^~;% I Follow The  Tire Tracks West. They  Go %;~^¨¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨^~;%$ 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.   ##@£$%;~^¨
¨¨^~;%$£@#                                          #@£$%;~^¨¨
¨¨¨^~;%$£@                                          @£$%;~^¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨^~;%$£                                          £$%;~^¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨^~;%$                                          $%;~^¨¨¨¨¨
¨¨¨¨¨¨^~;%                                          %;~^¨¨¨¨¨¨