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?