作词 : Bazan
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 pharisees 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.