Lyrics:

No, please no
Not tonight, please no
Mister, can't you go?
Not tonight, can't have a scene


What?


Go, please go
You, hello, sir!
I said no
Important customer

What am I, just a blur?


You sit all night, you never buy!


That's a lie, that's a lie!
I had a tea the other day


You couldn't pay


Oh yeah...


Benjamin Coffin III? Here?


Oh no!


Wine and beer!


The enemy of Avenue A
We'll stay

Oy vey!


What brings the mogul in his own mind
To the Life Cafe?


I would like to propose a toast
To Maureen's noble try
It went well


Go to Hell


Was the yuppie scum stomped?
Not counting the homeless
How many tickets weren't comped?


Why did Muffy


Alison

miss the show?


There was a death in the family
If you must know


Who died?


Our Akita


Evita


Mimi, I'm surprised
A bright and charming girl like you
Hangs out with these slackers
Who don't adhere to deals
They make fun, yet I'm the one
Attempting to do some good
Or do you really want a neighborhood
Where people piss on your stoop every night?
Bohemia, Bohemia's a fallacy in your head
This is Calcutta
Bohemia is dead


Dearly beloved
We gather here to say our goodbyes


Dies irae, dies illa
Kyrie eleison
Yitgadal veyitkadash


Here she lies, no one knew her worth
The late great daughter of Mother Earth
On this night when we celebrate the birth
In that little town of Bethlehem
We raise our glass, you bet your ass, to
La vie Bohème


La vie Bohème
La vie Bohème
La vie Bohème
La vie Bohème


To days of inspiration
Playing hooky
Making something out of nothing
The need to express
To communicate
To going against the grain
Going insane
Going mad

To loving tension, no pension
To more than one dimension
To starving for attention
Hating convention
Hating pretension
Not to mention, of course
Hating dear old Mom and Dad

To riding your bike
Midday past the three-piece suits
To fruits
To no absolutes
To Absolut
To choice
To The Village Voice
To any passing fad

To being an us, for once
Instead of a them


La vie Bohème
La vie Bohème


Is the equipment in a pyramid?


It is, Maureen


The mixer doesn't have a case
Don't give me that face


Ahem


Hey, Mister
She's my sister


So that's five miso soup
Four seaweed salad
Three soy burger dinner
Two tofu dog platter
And one pasta with meatless balls


Ew


It tastes the same


If you close your eyes


And thirteen orders of fries
Is that it here?


Wine and beer!


To hand-crafted beers made in local breweries
To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese
To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo
To huevos rancheros and Maya Angelou


Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion
Creation, vacation


Mucho masturbation


Compassion, to fashion, to passion
When it's new


To Sontag


To Sondheim


To anything taboo


Ginsberg, Dylan, Cunningham, and Cage


Lenny Bruce


Langston Hughes


To the stage


To Uta


To Buddha


Pablo Neruda, too


Why Dorothy and Toto went over the rainbow
To blow off Auntie Em


La vie Bohème


And wipe the speakers off before you pack


Yes, Maureen


Well, hurry back

(they kiss)


Sisters?


We're close

(MAUREEN and JOANNE move to the side to reveal ANGEL and COLLINS kissing)


Brothers!


Bisexuals, trisexuals, homo sapiens
Carcinogens, hallucinogens, men
Pee-wee Herman
German wine, turpentine, Gertrude Stein
Antonioni, Bertolucci, Kurosawa
Carmina Burana


To apathy, to entropy, to empathy, ecstasy
Vaclav Havel, The Sex Pistols, 8BC
To no shame, never playing the Fame Game


To marijuana


To sodomy
It's between God and me
To S & M


Waiter... Waiter... Waiter!


La vie Bohème


In honor of the death of bohemia, an impromtu salon will commence immediately following dinner. Mimi Marquez, clad only in bubble wrap will perform her famous lawn chair-handcuff dance to the sounds of iced tea being stirred


And Mark Cohen will preview his new documentary about his inability to hold an erection on high holy days


Maureen Johnson, back from her spectacular one-night engagement at the eleventh street lot, will sing Native American tribal chants backwards through her vocoder, while accompanying herself on the electric cello, which she has never studied


Your new boyfriend doesn't know about us


There's nothing to know


Don't you think that we should discuss --


It was three months ago


He doesn't act like he's with you


We're taking it slow


Where is he now?


He's right -- Hmm


Uh huh...


Where'd he go?


And Roger will attempt to write a bittersweet, evocative song

(Roger picks up a guitar and plays)

That doesn't remind us of 'Musetta's Waltz'


Angel Dumott Schunard will model the latest fall fashions from Paris while accompanying herself on the 10 gallon plastic pickle tub


And Collins will recount his exploits as anarchist, including the tale of the successful reprogramming of the M.I.T. virtual reality equipment to self-destruct, as it broadcasts the words:


'Actual Reality - ACT UP - Fight AIDS!'


Check!!


Excuse me, did I do something wrong?
I get invited, then ignored all night long


I've been trying, I'm not lying
No one's perfect, I've got baggage


Life's too short, babe, time is flying
I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine


I should tell you--


I've got baggage too


I should tell you--


Baggage
Wine--


--And beer!


AZT break


You?


Me. You?


Mimi