The story begins
City dweller, successful fella thought to himself
Oops, I've got a lot of money
Caught in a rat race terminally
I'm a professional cynic but my heart's not in it
I'm paying the price of living life at the limit
Caught up in the century's anxiety
Yes, it preys on him, he's getting thin
He lives in a house, a very big house in the country
Watching afternoon repeats and the food he eats in the country
He takes all manner of pills and piles up analyst bills in the country
It's like an animal farm that's the rural charm in the country
Now he's got morning glory and life's a different story
Everything's going Jackanory touched with his own mortality
He's reading Balzac, knocking back Prozac
It's a helping hand that makes you feel wonderfully bland
It's a century's remedy for the faint at heart, a new start
He lives in a house, a very big house in the country
He's got a fog in his chest so he needs a lot of rest in the country
He takes all manner of pills and piles up analyst bills in the country
It's like an animal farm that's the rural charm in the country
In the country, in the country, in the country
Blow, blow me out, I am so sad, I don't know why
Blow, blow me out, I am so sad, I don't know why
He lives in a house, a very big house in the country
Watching afternoon repeats and the food he eats in the country
He takes all manner of pills and piles up analyst bills in the country
It's like an animal farm that's the rural charm in the country
He lives in a house, a very big house in the country
He's got a fog in his chest so he needs a lot of rest in the country
He doesn't drink, smoke, laugh, takes herbal baths in the country
It's like an animal farm that's the rural charm in the country