The Fleecing

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