.@@@@@@.@. @@@@@.@@@@
@.....@@@. ....@@...@
@....@..@@ ...@.@..@.
@...@@.@.. ..@@@@.@@@
@..@.@@@.. .@...@@...
@.@@@..@.. 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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.@@@...@@@ @..@..@@..
@..@..@... @.@@.@.@..
@.@@.@@... @@.@@@@@.@
@@.@@.@..@ .@@....@@.