The Spy without a Clue... (a poem)

At noon he works for UNCLE,
at 3 he works for THRUSH,
but because he plays between the lines,
there's noone he can trust.
You see he never knows this game,
still he knows just what to do.
So, I guess it's true...
He's the spy without a clue.

He's hanging on a limb,
yet he has his own agenda.
She plays on many levels,
and she says her name is Linda.
She's a flirt and a deceiver,
so there's no way to believe her,
but sill he's just a "sucka",
'cause all the still he needs her.
You see it's true...
He's the spy with out a clue.

And his chiefs don't tell him nothin',
so I guess it's mums the word,
and so he often wonders,
if *#??*'s a noun or verb.
But sill he runs this gambit,
so all that he can say is...
" I do not like this game,
but I do like to play".

Hey, hey
I guess it's true...
He's the spy without a clue.