text: Come on Charles!
  Worry her, out there Charlie! Swing it Sam Bardfeld!
  Oooooooff, the streets of New York City, the Sessionettes!
  Zooey, zooey, zooey, zoo-ya, doo-ya
  Zooey, zooey, zooey, zoo-ya, doo-ya, zooey, zooey, zooey, zoo-ya, doo ya
  Zooey, zooey, zooey, zoo-ya, doo-ya, zooey, zooey, zooey, doo-ya, dooby
  Dee-yabba dooba dooba, ba ba, yabada dee yabadooba dooba ba ba, yabada dee yabadooby, dee yabadooby, deeeeeeee...
  Well, I had the carburetor, baby, cleaned and checked
  With her line blown out shes hummin like a turbojet
  Propped her up in the backyard on some concrete blocks
  For a new clutch plate and a new set of shocks
  Took her down to the carwash, check the plugs and points
  Im goin out tonight, Im gonna rock this joint
  Early north Jersey industrial skyline
  Im a all-set cobra jet creepin through the nighttime
  Gotta find a gas station, gotta find a pay phone
  This turnpike’s spooky at night when youre alone
  Gotta hit the gas, Im running late
  New Jersey in the mornin like a lunar landscape
  Now, the boss dont dig me, so he put me on the night shift
  Takes me two hours to get back to where my baby lives
  In the wee, wee hours your mind gets hazy
  Radio relays towers, lead me to my baby
  Underneath the overpass, the trooper hits his party light switch
  Good night, good luck, one, two, power shift
  All right, play it boss man!
  Go head!
  Ba, ba, ba, baya, booya, ba ba ba, baya, booya, ba ba ba, baya, booya, ba ba ba, baya, booya, ba ba ba, baya booya, doodly-op, doodly-op, ba ba ba da
  Zooey, zooey, zooey, zoo-ya, doo-ya
  Zooey, zooey, zooey, zoo-ya, doo-ya, zooey, zooey, zooey, zoo-ya, doo ya
  Zooey, zooey, zooey, zoo-ya, doo-ya, zooey, zooey, zooey, doo-ya, dooby
  Dee-ba ba ba
  Ba dee, yaba dooba, ba ba, ba dee, yaba dooba, ba ba, ba dee yaba dooba, ba ba, ba dee yaba dooba, ba ba, ba dee yaba dooba, ba de yaba dooba, wa, wa wa wa wa wa
  Wa wa, doobly dee-yabba dooba dooba, ba ba, yabada dee yabadooba dooba ba ba, yabada dee yabadooby, dee yabadooby, deeeeeeee...
  Wa wa wa, waba badaba, wa ba ba, waba badaba, ba ba ba baba badaba, wa wa wa, waba badada, ba ba ba, da da dadada da
  Come on Charles!
  Well I met Wanda when she was employed
  Behind the counter of the Route 60 Bobs Big Boy Fried Chicken
  On the front seat, shes sittin in my lap
  Were wipin our fingers on a Texaco road map
  I remember Wanda from scrap metal hill
  With them big brown eyes that make your heart stand still
  5 a.m., oil pressures sinkin fast
  Gotta make a pit stop, wipe the windshield, check the gas
  Gotta call my baby on the telephone
  Let her know her daddy mans comin on home
  Sit tight, mama, Im comin round
  I got three more hours, but Im coverin ground
  Your eyes get itchy in the wee, wee hours
  Suns a red ball risin over the refinery towers
  Radios jammed up with talk show stations
  Talk... Talk....
  Hey, mister deejay, wontcha hear my last prayer?
  Hey, ho, rock n roll, deliver me from nowhere
  Alright , alright 
  Alright , alright 
  Alright alright 
  Come on in everybody, cause were open all night
  One, two, three!
  Are you ready?
  Well, alright , well alright 
  Well, alright , well alright 
  Well alright alright 
  Come on in everybody, cause were open all night
  Whoah!