(So the story begins) City dweller, successful fella Thought to himself Oops I've gotta 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 Now he live's in a house, very big house in the country Watching afternoons repeat, and the food he eats in the country He takes all maner of pills, and piles up analyst bills in the country It's like an animal farm, that's so rural charm in the country repetem-se as mesmas cifras para o resto da música.
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