what the pharasies don't see

I wish I wrote this. Maybe I did (I didn't). I wish I could sing like dave bazan. when I sing along I unintentionally (now) sing out of the corner of my mouth. On purpose I squint one eye. Sometimes I think this will help my singing ability. My sister tells me it's hindering more than I realize. I'm sticking to it, maybe someday I'll be able to carry a real tune. Until then, I can pretend I'm right there with him:


The Fleecing, David 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 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.