by Bob Dylan



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



Because 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, "Where what is?"

And you say, "Oh my God

Am I here all alone?"



Because something is happening here

But 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 says, "How does it feel

To be such a freak?"

And you say, "Impossible"

As he hands you a bone



Because 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 just 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

F. Scott Fitzgerald's books

You're very well read

It's well known



Because something is happening here

But 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"



Because something is happening here

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"



Because something is happening here

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

To wear earphones



Because something is happening here

But you don't know what it is

Do you, Mister Jones?