Sycamore Well
Lonesome Wyatt
I no longer have your love
I buried it under old Sycamore Well
And a vine now grows from its eyes
A vine now grows from its eyes
From the vine, there grows a fruit
It's the only food that I care to eat
It tastes so much like your eyes
It tastes so much like your eyes
Yesterday, just after noon
I took the path to Sycamore Well
But it was covered with butterflies
Who looked so much like your eyes
So I laid my body down
And let butterflies consume me
With their lovely eyes
With their lovely eyes