#£§§^/~^,,                                          ,,^~/^§§£#
##£§§^/~^,                                          ,^~/^§§£##
#£§§^/~^,,                                          ,,^~/^§§£#
£§§^/~^,,,                                          ,,,^~/^§§£
§§^/~^,,,,                                          ,,,,^~/^§§
§^/~^,,,,, 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.   ,,,,,,^~/^
§^/~^,,,,,                                          ,,,,,^~/^§
§§^/~^,,,,                                          ,,,,^~/^§§
£§§^/~^,,,                                          ,,,^~/^§§£
#£§§^/~^,,                                          ,,^~/^§§£#
##£§§^/~^,                                          ,^~/^§§£##