Tekst piosenki
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.
