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| A-Ha How Can I Sleep With Your Voice In My Head Sycamore Leaves 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 me |
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