New York city, center of the universe
Sing it girl, times are shitty
But I'm pretty sure they can't get worse
I hear that

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 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

You teach?
Yeah, 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 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
Our labors would reap financial gains
We'll 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

Do you know the way to Santa Fe?
You know, tumbleweeds, prairie dogs, yeah