Well we're all packed up and we're Iroquois bound,
Tuning our ears for the F.M. sound.
We got a million problems, we're on our way,
44th, New York, U.S.A.
That big crazy city don't blink an eye,
Anytime we pass by.
It just keeps strechting up so high,
Like a rocket, shooting, to the sky.
Iroquois ! Iroquois !
Special Branch got their feelers out,
Our names and addresses 'cos we're in doubt.
Down the corridor, keep in lane,
Find the worst seats on the plane.
Find a tacky statue three inches high,
Dirty rain falls from a dirty sky.
On the corner of the street there's a big black fella' ..
Trying to sell me an umberalla.
Get the Kraut boys round for a smoke an' a beer,
There's gotta be a pizza delivery near.
Call the barf patrol, there's a stain on the floor,
A weeks P.D's for the bathroom floor.
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