Lyrics:

New York City, Uh huh
Center of the universe, Sing it girl
Times are shitty
But 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 I know
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
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 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
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
Oh oh oh
Do you know the way to Santa Fe?
You know, Tumbleweeds, prairie dogs, yeah