Sycamore Leaves

Can't stop thinking 'bout it

It fills me with unease

Out there by the roadside something's buried

Under sycamore leaves

Wet grounds, late September

The foliage of the trees

I came upon this feeling that someone's lying

Covered by sycamore leaves

And I could never make it

And I could never see

And I could never break out

And shake it's grip on me