&&%%==--,,                                          ,,--==%%&&
#@#&$%;=-,                                          ,-=;%$&#@#
&$%%===-,,                                          ,,-===%%$&
#@#&$%;=-,                                          ,-=;%$&#@#
&&%=-,,,,,                                          ,,,,,-=%&&
#$%=-,,,,, I Follow  The Tire Tracks  West. They Go ,,,,,-=%$#
##@&$%;=-, Parallel With  The  Railroad,  With  Its ,-=;%$&@##
#$$;;--,,, Endless  Mirrors Looking Kinda Oily.  An ,,,--;;$$#
@&$$%===-,  Incredible Power Bound There... There'S ,-===%$$&@
#&&%=,,,,, 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 ,,,,,,,=%&
&&$;-,,,,,   Yesterday. I Fear The Dreaming gate.   ,,,,,-;$&&
@#$%;=--,,                                          ,,--=;%$#@
###&$%;=-,                                          ,-=;%$&###
#@#&$%;=-,                                          ,-=;%$&#@#
##$%;;;=-,                                          ,-=;;;%$##
#@#&$%;=-,                                          ,-=;%$&#@#