sycamore leaves

A-ha

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