This song is about the cottage again,
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It's very crappy in the city in summer.
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It's hot and stuffy, and you can't sleep,
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Well, not life, but just horror!
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Chorus:
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And in the country, and in the country,
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Everything is different, everything is fucked up.
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And in the country, and in the country,
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Everything is different, everything is fucked up.
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The women used to dig potatoes,
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Looks like they've mellowed out a bit now.
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They felt sorry for us, men,
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You can sleep and go fishing.
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Chorus:
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And in the country, and in the country,
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Everything is different, everything is fucked up.
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And in the country, and in the country,
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Everything is different, everything is fucked up.
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When we turned thirty
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Relax, as they say.
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But at the dacha we can tear a shirt,
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Show with gray hairy chest.
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Chorus:
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And in the country, and in the country,
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Everything is different, everything is fucked up.
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And in the country, and in the country,
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Everything is different, everything is fucked up.
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I'm dying at work
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Then I thump, then vomit,
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I will come home, and you are at home,
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Fried eggs, telly, geranium flowers.
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It will be summer, let's go to the country,
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There everything is f*cking and f*cking,
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There is no x * I in my life,
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This, like his, happiness.
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Chorus:
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And in the country, and in the country,
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Everything is different, everything is fucked up.
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And in the country, and in the country,
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Everything is different, everything is fucked up. |