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
Roger:
I hear that
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 talkin'!
Well I'm thwarted by a metaphysic puzzle
And I'm sick of grading papers
That I know
I'm shouting in my sleep, I need a muzzle
And all this misery pays no salary so
Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
Sunny Santa Fe would be nice
We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
And leave this to the roaches and mice
Angel:
You teach?
Collins:
Yeah, I teach
Computer Age Philosophy
But my students would rather watch T.V.
Angel:
America
All:
America!
Collins:
You're a sensitive aesthete
Brush the sauce onto the meat
You can make the menu sparkle with a rhyme
You can drum a gentle drum
I can seat guests as they come
Chatting not about Heidegger but wine
Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
All:
Santa Fe
Collins:
Our labors would reep financial gain
Mark:
Gain!
Angel:
Gain!
Roger:
Gain!
Collins:
We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
All:
Santa Fe
Collins:
And save from devastation our brains
All:
Save our brains
We'll pack up all our junk and fly so far away
Devote ourselves to projects that sell
We'll open up in Santa Fe
Forget this cold bohemian hell
Collins:
Do you know the way to Santa Fe?
Ya know, tumble weeds, prairie dogs..yeah
