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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 trench coat 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 KGB 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 CIA detect me
Hey! Hey! Hey!
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 trench coat 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 KGB 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 CIA detect me
Hey! Hey! Hey!
Lyrics submitted by spliphstar
Contact in Red Square Lyrics as written by Jimmy Destri
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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(subject of song takes a long drag of Black Russian Sobranie. Exhales into screen. Long pan-out to nocturnal Moscow skyline. Cut back to protagonist who speaks to surveillance camera:)
"Hack, hack... (a cyber-cough) Kremlin's gremlins, rootin' for Putin, play algorithm n'blues. Their media-bots crank out fake news (death-toll Chicago) or was it lake views (Mar-a-Lago) while the democrat moonbats take cheap shots -- not Stolichnaya, but Maxine's unclean waters dribbling on Trump and Mother Russia's daughters. Turn on your alt-right nightlight to dispel the New Left Daydream until the evil click-baiting Hillary-Hating KGB turn on the hi-beams. Gotcha ! GOTCHA ! Now dance the Kamchatka... or is maybe hevink other name that Kossack dance? I ask Natasha."
PS: never heard the Blondie song ☺