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 hearts not in it

I'm paying the price of living life at the limit

Caught up in the centurys 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 its like an animal farm

That's the rural charm

In the country

He's got morning glory and lifes a different story

Everythings going jackanory

Touched with his own mortality

He's reading balzac knocking back prozac

Its a helping hand that makes you feel wonderfully bland

Oh its a centurys 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