There is someone always following me
I’m sure, I’m sure, there’s someone there.
but when I turn, there’s nothing I can see
In the soft rustle of the dry leaves of a tree
and in the sighing grasses I can hear
there’s someone always following me
Sometimes walking alone beside the sea,
the splashing of his feet tells me he is near,
but when I turn there’s nothing I can see.
However fast I run I cannot flee
I try to hide away, but everywhere
I go there’s someone following me
That sound like the faint buzzing of a bee
I know he’s breathing at my back. I fear
to turn, although there’s nothing I can see.
What can he mean by it? And who is he ?
What does he want? Why does he care?
He never speaks; he only follows me
and when I turn there’s nothing I can see