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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. ##&=;;.¨¨¨
¨.»;=&@#@# #@#@&=;».¨
¨¨¨¨»;=&#@ 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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