Santa Fe

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 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
Oh sunny Santa Fe would be nice
We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
And leave this to the roaches and mice
Oooooh
Oooooh

You teach?
I teach computer age philosophy
While my students would rather watch TV
America
America
You're a sensitive aesthete
Brush the sauce onto the meat
You could make the menu sparkle
With rhyme
You could drum a gentle drum
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 gain
Gain, Gain, Gain
We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe (Santa Fe)
And save from devastation our brains
Save 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
Oooooh
Oooooh
Do you know the way to Santa Fe?
You know, Tumbleweeds, Prairie Dogs
Yeah



Credits
Writer(s): Jonathan D. Larson, Andrzej Ozga
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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