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Take a little walk to the edge of town and go across the tracks. Where the viaduct looms like a bird of doom as it shifts and cracks. Where secrets lie in the border fires, in the humming wires. Hey man, you know you're never coming back. Past the square, past the bridge, past the mills, past the stacks, on a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man in a dusty black coat with a red right hand.