Transit Moscow, 3:50 am The road and the sign and the rain He sees the border guards Gaping at his tank And says: Open that gate While you still can I am the armadillo man It does not matter What country you are in Just stay here on base With your own kind But he knew a patriot Needs a strong free hand Now he's off to torch That red-infested land Can't stop the armadillo man High-gabled houses Loom through the rain He's on course for destiny With a whoosh and a whistle and a bang Bye bye armadillo man Least he went to see the other side While other people never even tried