Contact In Red Square

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Although I'm young I got a job to do.
Hid the microfilm in the lining of my shoe.
Call it a business trip.
Got to hide inside my trenchcoat and be clever .
I got my papers and a cyanide pill.
My polaroid's a taser in disguise.
There's a base in the hills,
and the wheat fields looks like Kansas in November.
Astrovia, sweet comrade, your nation is your gun.
Your love reads like the broken code you sent me.
One last contact in red square,
unless I have to run and the long arms of the K.G.B. detect me.
Can't trust a soul, secret messenger,
just the rules that lie like circuits in your brain and a cool .45.
The wind is ice and foreign air tastes strange.
I.C.B.M.
Bang! Bang! You're dead!
No one left to worry.
Kiss me quick, now I have to hurry.
Our last contact in red square,
unless I have to run
and the long arms of the C.I.A. detect me.
Hey!
Hey! Hey!