| You walk into the room
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| With your pencil in your hand
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| You see somebody naked
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| And you say, «Who is that man?»
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| You try so hard
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| But you don’t understand
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| Just what you’ll say
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| When you get home
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| Because something is happening here
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| But you don’t know what it is
|
| Do you, Mister Jones?
|
| You raise up your head
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| And you ask, «Is this where it is?»
|
| And somebody points to you and says
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| «It's his»
|
| And you say, «What's mine?»
|
| And somebody else says, «Where what is?»
|
| And you say, «Oh my God
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| Am I here all alone?»
|
| But something is happening
|
| And you don’t know what it is
|
| Do you, Mister Jones?
|
| You hand in your ticket
|
| And you go watch the geek
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| Who immediately walks up to you
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| When he hears you speak
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| And says, «How does it feel
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| To be such a freak?»
|
| And you say, «Impossible»
|
| As he hands you a bone
|
| And something is happening here
|
| But you don’t know what it is
|
| Do you, Mister Jones?
|
| You have many contacts
|
| Among the lumberjacks
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| To get you facts
|
| When someone attacks your imagination
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| But nobody has any respect
|
| Anyway they already expect you
|
| To all give a check
|
| To tax-deductible charity organizations
|
| You’ve been with the professors
|
| And they’ve all liked your looks
|
| With great lawyers you have
|
| Discussed lepers and crooks
|
| You’ve been through all of
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| F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books
|
| You’re very well read
|
| It’s well known
|
| But something is happening here
|
| And you don’t know what it is
|
| Do you, Mister Jones?
|
| Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
|
| And then he kneels
|
| He crosses himself
|
| And then he clicks his high heels
|
| And without further notice
|
| He 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 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 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 comin' around
|
| You should be made
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| To wear earphones
|
| 'Cause something is happening
|
| And you don’t know what it is
|
| Do you, Mister Jones? |