New York City (uh huh)
Center of the universe (sing it girl)
Times are shittyBut I′m pretty sure they can't get worse (I hear ya)
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
Now you're talking
Well, I′m thwarted by a metaphysic puzzle
And I′m sick of grading papers that are low
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
Sunny Santa Fe would be nice
Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
And leave this to the roaches and mice
Oh, oh, oh, whoa
Whoa, oh, oh, oh
(You teach?) I teach, computer age philosophy
But my students would rather watch TV (America, America)
You′re a sensitive aesthete
Brush the sauce onto the meat
You can make the menu sparkle with rhyme
You can drum a gentle drum
And I could seat guests as they come
Chatting not about Heidegger but wine
Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe (Santa Fe)
Our labors would reap financial gains (gains-gains-gains)
Let′s open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
And save from devastation our brains
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
Whoa, oh, oh, oh
Whoa-whoa oh, oh
Whoa
Whoa, oh, oh, oh
Whoa-whoa oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Do you know the way to Santa Fe?
You know? Tumbleweeds, prairie dogs, yeah
