Take my word for it, he is bound to the track. It pulls him like a needle through the groove of a bluebird record. Round and round about the town. That’s the way the City spins you. Makes you do what it wants, go where the laid-out roads say to. All the while letting you think you’re free; that you can jump into thickets because you feel like it. There are no thickets here, and if mowed grass is okay to walk on the City will let you know. You can’t get off the track a City lays for you.