Santa Fe

(The Street)

Angel:
New York City --

Mark:
Uh huh

Angel:
Center of the universe

Collins:
Sing it girl --

Angel:
Times are shitty
But I'm pretty sure they can't get worse

Mark:
I hear you

Angel:
It's a comfort to know
When you're singing the hit-the-road blues
That anywhere else you could possibly go
After New York would be a pleasure cruise

Collins:
Now you're talking
Well, I'm thwarted by a metaphysic puzzle
And I'm sick of grading papers -- that I know
And I'm shouting in my sleep, I need a muzzle
All this misery pays no salary, so
Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
Oh sunny Santa Fe would be nice
Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
And leave this to the roaches and mice

Collins:
Oh -- oh

All:
Oh --

Angel:
You teach?

Collins:
-- I teach -- Computer Age Philosophy
But my students would rather watch TV

Angel:
America

All:
America!

Collins:
You're a sensitive aesthete
Brush the sauce onto the meat
You could make the menu sparkle with rhyme
You could drum a gentle drum
I could seat guests as they come
Chatting not about Heidegger, but wine!
(with homeless people in the shadows)
Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
Our labors would reap financial gains

All:
Gains, gains, gains

Collins:
We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
And save from devastation our brains

Homeless:
Save our brains

All:
We'll pack up all our junk and fly so far away
Devote ourselves to projects that sell
We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
Forget this cold Bohemian hell
Oh--

All:
Oh--

Collins:
Do you know the way to Santa Fe?
You know, tumbleweeds...prairie dogs...
Yeah