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Can't stop thinking 'bout it 
It fills me with unease 
Out there by the roadside 
Somethings 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 face it 
And take a look and see 
And I could never break out 
And shake its grip on me