(Not really) Verse 1:
Are you trying to trick me into thinking,
That you and your cronies aren't there?
And that your great big building,
Is a mirage, (and) really thin air?
(Not really the) Chorus:
I so badly want to walk around,
With a briefcase and bowler hat,
I'd seek out the real James Bond,
And we could have a secret chat.
(Not really) Verse 2:
There's nothing that you can say to me,
As hard as you may try,
'Cause I know that the guys in suits,
Are all of our finest spies.
(Not really) Verse 3:
The gadgets, the coolest cars, and women every day,
The life of danger is the life for me,
Travelling all around the world to exotic places far,
I wish I could be one of those men that you can't see.
(You did not just read this song...this song doesn't exist, has never existed, and will never exist, and if questioned about it's existence, Ian M.Pritchard will DENY EVERYTHING)