When we were young and the world seemed fine,nMy dad bought a cottage underneath the pinenBy the shores of a lake with a funny name,nWe used to go there just the same.nHe never said a word about snakes and bees;nGooey stuff leaking from the bark of trees;nThunderstorms loud enough to split your head...n... But it's a lifestyle.nnYou sold the cottage.nYou sold the cottage.nYou sold the cottage.nYou sold the cottage.nnThe golden memories flood back:n- Prickle bushes.n- Bloodsuckers between the toes on the lake bottom.n- Falling out of the tree fort.n- Being bitten by the chipmumk that lived underneath the boathouse.nnHorseflies dining on my back,nB.B.Q. heaven burned to black,nMotorboat havoc kept me on the shore,nSuntan fever to migrarne roar.nOverheating as I lay in bed,nBlankets wrapped around my head,nNo way spiders landed on my face...n... But it's a lifestyle.nnYou sold the cottage.nYou sold the cottage.nYou sold the cottage.nYou sold the cottage.