Ballad of a Thin Man (Live at the Royal Albert Hall)

Jesus

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

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

You raise up your head, and you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says, "It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?", and somebody else says, "Well, what is?"
And you say, "Oh, my God, am I here all alone?"

Something is happening
You don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You hand in your ticket, and you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you when he hears you speak
And he says, "How does it feel to be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible", as he hands you a bone

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

You have many contacts among the lumberjacks to get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect, anyway they already expect you to give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
Oh, oh

You've been with the professors, and they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well-read, it's well known

Something is happening here
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Sword swallower comes up to you and then he kneels
He crosses himself and then he clicks his high heels
Without further notice, he asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back, thanks for the loan"

You 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, "What does this mean?", and he screams back "You're a cow
Give me some milk, or else go home"

And you don't know what's happening
You don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You walk into the room like a camel, 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

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