by Mark Knopfler
It’s a mystery to me, the game commences
For the usual fee plus expenses
Confidential information, it’s in a diary
This is my investigation, it’s not a public inquiry
I go checking out the reports, digging up the dirt
You get to meet all sorts in this line of work
Treachery and treason, there’s always an excuse for it
And when I find the reason, I still can’t get used to it
And what have you got at the end of the day?
What have you got to take away?
A bottle of whiskey and a new set of lies
Blinds on the windows and a pain behind the eyes
Scarred for life, no compensation