The Fleecing


Deep green hills whose shoulders fade, into the gray tall wet grass
Whose flesh makes fools of grazing sheep, whose fleecing makes a fool of me

And 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 it like I feel it
And I don't feel a thing
Oh no - I don't feel a thing

And 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 it
And why I need it
And what the pharasies don't see

And we'd have more drinks We'd speak of so many things
But I don't know you, and you don't know me







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