SantaFe - text

ANGEL
New York City --

MARK
Uh huh

ANGEL
Center of the universe

COLLINS
Sing it girl --

ANGEL
Times are shitty
But I'm pretty sure they can't get worse

MARK
I hear you

ANGEL
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

COLLINS
Now you're talking
Well, I'm thwarted by a metaphysic puzzle
And I'm sick of grading papers - that I know
And I'm shouting in my sleep, I need a muzzle
All this misery pays no salary, so
We'll 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

ANGEL
You teach?

COLLINS
I teach -- Computer Age Philosophy
But my students would rather watch TV

ANGEL
America!

ALL
America!

ANGEL
I preach!

MARK
Hallelujah!

ANGEL
I beat the drum of apocalypse
like orchestras on sinking ships

COLLINS
America!

ALL
America!

COLLINS
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!
We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe

ANGEL, MARK & HOMELESS
Santa Fe

COLLINS
Our labors would reap financial gains

ANGEL, MARK & HOMELESS
Gains, gains, gains

COLLINS
We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
And save from devastation our brains

MAN
Save our brains

ALL
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

COLLINS
Forget this cold Bohemian hell
Do you know the way to Santa Fe?
You know, tumbleweeds...prairie dogs...Yeah