(so 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 (try the simple life)
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 Oh, it's like an animal farm That's the rural charm In the country
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 Oh, it's a century's remedy For the faint at heart A new start (try the simple life)
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 You should come to no harm On the animal farm In the country
(blow, blow me out, I am so sad, I don't know why)