6 acessos
Can't stop, thinking 'bout it
It fills me with unease
Out there by the roadside
Something's buried
Under sycamore leaves
Wet ground, late September...
The foliage of the trees
I came upon this feeling that
Someone's lying
Covered by sycamore leaves
And I could never face it
And I could never see
And I could never break out
And shake its grip on me