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 its grip on me
Sycamore leaves
And I could never make it And I could never see And I could never break out And shake its grip on me
Can't stop thinking 'bout it It fills me with unease Out there by the roadside, something's buried Under sycamore leaves Covered by sycamore leaves Sycamore leaves I'm coming for you Sycamore leaves