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