Tekster: Sting. Ten Summoner's Tales. Epilouge.

Lay my head on the surgeon's table
Take me fingerprints if you are able
Pick my brains, pick my pockets
Steal my eyeballs and come back for the sockets
Run every kind of test from a to z
And you'll still know nothing 'bout me

Run my name through your computer
Mention me in passing to your college tutor
Check my records, check my facts
Check if I paid my income tax
Pore over everything in my c.v.
But you'll still know nothing 'bout me
You'll still know nothing 'bout me


You don't need to read no books on my history
I'm a simple man, it's no big mystery
In the cold weather, a hand needs a glove
At times like this, a lonely man like me needs love

Search my house with a fine tooth comb
Turn over everything 'cause I won't be at home
Set up your microscope and tell me what you see
You'll still know nothing 'bout me