Ballad of a Thin Man (Bob Dylan cover)

You walk in the room
With a pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard
But you just don't understand
What you're going to say when you get home
Something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You raise up your head
And ask, "Is this where it is?"
Somebody points to you and says
"It's his"
You say, "What's mine?"
And somebody else says, "Where what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God
Am I here all alone?"
Something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You turn in your ticket
And go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel
To be such a freak?"
You say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone
Because something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
Who get you facts
When somebody attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect
You to write a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
You've been with the professors
And they all liked your looks
With great lawyers you've
Discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well read
It's well known
But something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Well, the sword swallower walks up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
Asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan"
And you know something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Now you see a one-eyed midget
Shouting the word "NOW"
And you say, "For what reason?"
He says, "How?"
You say, "What does this mean?"
And he screams back, "You're a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home"
You know something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do 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 on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you coming around
You should be made to wear earphones
Something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?