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 Face It
And Take A Look And See
And I Could Never Break Out
And Shake It's Grip On Me