Deep green hills whose shoulders fade into thick grey Tall wet grass 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 But I can't say it like I sing it And I can't sing it like I think it And I can't think like I feel it And I don't feel a thing Why I still believe it Why I need it Who shall I blame for this sweet and heavy trouble For every stupid struggle I don't know Why I still believe it Why I need it And what the pharisees don'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