The sleeper

Fleet St headlines shout in red  
 the eleventh hour. hold the front page  
we have got the inside track
scoop! put all hacks flat on their backs  
the phones all ringing off the wall  
a melt down gripping all Whitehall  
 
At MI5 they scratched their heads  
how could we mitigate this mess  
deflection and evasivness seemed best  
there may be some collateral thats lost  
and us the innocents that pay that cost  
 
Sleepers like a fifth brigade  
the man that sits next on the train  
carrying a Lugar or a Smith and Wesson  
just an encripted presence  
 
In the grey they dodge and feint  
 double  "0" question mark aint no saint  
a sorboquet that has no past  
smoke and mirrors balancing act  
 
A machiavellian of deciet  
breakcover and then dissapear  
when the puppet then breaks free, untied  
in the cold  to be debriefed  
the headlines on the Sunday Times  
 
Where the lines of right and wrong  
predudice that divide submerge  
hold all the aces in your whip hand  
be the man with the golden gun  
copy a template of John McClane  
 
Dark opps has opened pandoras box  
where Hard and Die are never stumbling blocks  
carries his own wig and gavil  
decides just what is good, what is evil  
a maveric or just a double cross