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 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 it's grip on menew wave
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