Deep green hills whose shoulders fade
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Into thick grey, tall wet grass
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Whose flesh makes fools of grazing sheep,
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Whose fleecing makes a fool of me.
|
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Chorus:
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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!
|
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But I can't say it like I sing it,
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I can't sing it like I think it
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I can't think 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 it!
|
|
Chorus:
|
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!
|
Why I still believe it
|
And I'm grieving,
|
And what for years I could not see!
|
We'd have more drinks,
|
We would speak of so many things
|
But I don't know you and you don't know me!
|
|
-----------------
|
The Fleecing
|
| David Bazan |
