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 up the trees
I came upon, this feeling that
someone's lying
Covered by sycamore leaves

And I could never face it
And take a look and see
And I could never break out
And shake its grip on me