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 what I do 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 I don't feel it 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 what I do believe And why I need it And I was blind but now I see And you have more drinks And we speak of so many things But I don't know you, and you don't know me