You walk into the room with your pencil in your hand,
You see somebody naked, you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard, but you don't understand
Just what you're gonna say when you get home,
Yes, because you know something is happening, but you don't know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones?
You walk in so politely, you say, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says, "It's his."
You say, "What's mine?" Somebody else says, "Where what is?"
And you say, "Oh, my God, am I here all alone?"
Yes, but, you know something's happening, but you don't know what it is, do you, Mr. 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?"
You say, "Impossible!" as he hands you a bone.
Yes, but you know something's happening, it's just that you don't know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones?
You have many contacts out there among the lumberjacks
To get you facts when someone attacks your imagination.
Yes, nobody has any respect, anyway they already expect
You just to give away your check to tax-deductible charity organizations.
Oh, you been with the professors, they've all liked your looks,
With great lawyers and scholars you've discussed lepers and crooks,
You been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books,
You're very-well read, it's well-known.
Yes, but something's happening and you don't know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones?
The sword swallower walks up to you and then he kneels,
He crosses himself and he clicks his high heels,
And without further notice he tells you how it feels
And says, "Here's your throat back. Thanks for the loan!"
Yes, and you think something's happening, but you don't know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones?
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, now you're positive something's happening and you wish you knew what it was, don't you, Mr. Jones?
You walk into the room like a camel and then you frown,
You put your eyes in your pockets and your nose into the ground.
There oughtta be a law against you coming around,
You should be made to be wearing at all times a telephone,
Yes, because something is happening and you don't know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones?