You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, 'Who is that man?'

You tried so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you'll say
When you get home

Because something is happening
And 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'

Then you say, 'What's mine?'
And somebody else says, 'Why what is?'
And you say, 'Oh my God
Am I here all alone?'

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

You hand in your money
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

Oh, you know something is happening
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

Yeah, but nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To down make a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations

You've been with the professors
And they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers and scholars 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
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 tells you how it feels
And he says, 'Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan'

And you're positive something is happening here
And you wish you knew what it was
Don't you, Mister Jones?

You see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word 'Now!'
And you say, 'For what reason?'
And he says, 'How?'

And you say, 'What the ***k does that 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?

You walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And you pull your nose back up from the ground

There's gonna be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made
To wear a kind of hea**hones

Because you know something is happening
And you'll never know what it was
Will you, Mister Jones?