You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you'll say
When you get home

Because you know something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You walk in so politely
You say, "Is this where it is?"
Somebody points to you and says
"It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?"
And somebody else says, "Where what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God
Am I here all alone?"

Because you know something is happening here
It's just that you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You hand in your money
To go watch the geek
Who suddenly walks up to you
When he hears you speak
Saying, "How does it feel
To be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone

Yes but you know something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You have many contacts
Out there among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they just expect you
To take your check
And give it to tax-deductible charity organizations

You've been with the professors
And they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers and scholars you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well read
It's well known

Yes but still something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

The sword swallower, he walks up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He tells you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your mouth back
Thanks for the loan"

Yes and you begin to know something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word "NOW"
And you say, "For what reason?"
And he says, "How?"
And you say, "Oh my god what does that mean?"
And he screams back, "You're a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home"

Yes and you're positive something is happening
And you gotta find out what it is
Don't you, Mister Jones?

Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose in the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made
To be carrying at all times a telephone

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

See also:
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