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Living in a Village

de The Jazz Butcher

The lawnmower across the street is driving me insane
The weekend's here, you curse, it's fucking Saturday again.
You watch the play-clothes people drag their doggies down the lane
When you're living in a village
Crooks and con men line the road with houses that they built
The dung's so deep out in the streets you have to walk on stilts
There's nothing after sundown, better drink until you tilt
When you're living in a village

And this is what it sounds like every night...

New York, Paris, Stockholm, Barcelona and Berlin
I don't care just where you dare to tell me you have been
When you're living in a village

The country is nice for pussycats, for, donkeys, cows and sheep
As far as I'm concerned now they can have it all to keep
There isn't even traffic noise to help me get to sleep
When you're living in a village

And you're choking on the bon-fire smoke and sneezing in the hay
The water isn't fit to drink for all the rates you pay
You'd rush right to the city but the bus don't come this way
When you're living in a village

Villify this place and people say you've got no roots
But all I want for Christmas is a pair of walking boots
To get out of this village

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