City dweller, successful fella
Thought to himself
Oops Iâ??ve got a lot of money
Iâ??m caught in a rat race terminally

Iâ??m a professional cynic
But my heartâ??s not in it
Iâ??m paying the price of living life at the limit
Caught up in the centuryâ??s anxiety
It preys on him, heâ??s getting thin

Now 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
Itâ??s like an animal farm,
Lots of rural charm in the country

Now heâ??s got morning glory, and lifeâ??s a different story
Everything going Jackanory
In touch with his own mortality
Heâ??s reading Balzac, knocking back Prozac,

Itâ??s a helping hand
That makes you feel wonderfully bland
Oh, itâ??s the centuryâ??s remedy for the faint at heart,
A new start

He lives in a house, a very big house in the country
Heâ??s got a fog in his chest
So he needs a lot of rest in the country
He doesnâ??t drink smoke laugh

He takes herbal baths in the country
Oh, itâ??s like an animal farm
But youâ??ll come to no harm in the country

Blow blow me out I am so sad I donâ??t know why.

Writer : ALBARN, DAMON/JAMES, STEVEN ALEXANDER/COXON, GRAHAM
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group