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
Submitted by OptimusPrime at Thu 14 Aug, 2003 7:51 pm
Author: ?
Composer: ?
Publisher: ?
Language: English
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