deep green hills whose shoulders fade into thick grey
tall wet gra** whose flesh makes fools of grazing sheep
whose fleecing makes a fool of me
who shall i blame for this sweet and heavy trouble
for every stupid struggle i don't know
i could buy you a drink
i could tell you all about it
i could tell you why i doubt it and why i still believe
i can't say it like i sing it
i can't sing it like i think it
i can't think like i feel it
and i don't feel a thing
...why i still believe it
why i need it
and what the pharisees can't see
we'd have more drinks
and speak of so many things
but i don't know you and you don't know me