Deep green hills whose shoulders fade, into the gray tall wet grass.
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Whose flesh makes fools of grazing sheep, whose fleecing makes a fool of me.
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And who shall I blame for this sweet and heavy trouble?
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For every stupid struggle?
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I don't know.
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I could buy you a drink.
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I could tell you all about it.
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I could tell you why I doubt it, and why I still believe.
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But I can't say it like I sing it.
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And I can't sing it like I think it.
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And I can't think it like I feel it.
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And I don't feel a thing.
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Oh no - I don't feel a thing.
|
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And who shall I blame for this sweet and heavy trouble?
|
For every stupid struggle?
|
I don't know.
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I could buy you a drink.
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I could tell you all about it.
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I could tell you why I doubt it, and why I still believe it.
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And why I need it.
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And what the pharisees don't see.
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And we'd have more drinks. We'd speak of so many things.
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But I don't know you, and you don't know me.
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-----------------
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The Fleecing
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| Pedro The Lion |
