Song 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 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 are low
And 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

Oh, oh, oh

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 rhyme
You can 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
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

Oh, oh, oh

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

Jonathan D. Larson

The duration of Santa Fe is 3:28 minutes and seconds.