And so the the story begins City dweller, successful fella Thought to himself oops I've got a lot of money I'm 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 centuries anxiety 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 lot's of rural charm in the country He's got morning glory, life's a different story Everything going jackanory, in touch 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 the centuries 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