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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. ¨¨¨¨§§¨¨§§
§¨¨§§¨¨¨§§ §§§¨¨¨¨¨¨§
¨¨¨¨¨¨§¨¨¨ 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. §§¨¨§§¨¨§§
§¨¨§§§§¨¨§ ¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨§
¨¨¨¨§§¨¨¨¨ I Think Of The Jackdaw I Maimed §§§§§§§§¨¨
§§§¨¨¨¨§§§ Yesterday. I Fear The Dreaming gate. §§§§§§§¨¨§
§§¨¨§§¨¨§¨ §§§§§§¨¨¨¨
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