(The Street.)
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
Let’s open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
Oh sunny Santa Fe would be nice
Let’s open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
And leave this to the roaches and mice
COLLINS
Oh–oh
ALL
Oh–
ANGEL
You teach?
COLLINS
— I teach — Computer Age Philosophy
But my students would rather watch TV
ANGEL
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!
(with HOMELESS PEOPLE in the shadows)
Let’s open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
Our labors would reap financial gains
ALL
Gains, gains, gains
COLLINS
We’ll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe
And save from devastation our brains
HOMELESS
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
Forget this cold Bohemian hell
Oh–
ALL
Oh–
COLLINS
Do you know the way to Santa Fe?
You know, tumbleweeds…prairie dogs…
Yeah
