You walk into the room with your pencil in your handYou see somebody naked and you say, "Who is that man?"You try so hard but you don't understandJust what you will say when you get homeBecause something is happening here but you don't know what it isDo you, Mr. 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?"But something is happening and you don't know what it isDo you, Mr. Jones?You hand in your ticket and you go watch the geekWho immediately walks up to you when he hears you speakAnd says, "How does it feel to be such a freak?"And you say, "Impossible!" as he hands you a boneAnd something is happening here but you don't know what it isDo you, Mr. Jones?You have many contacts among the lumberjacksTo get you facts when someone attacks your imaginationBut nobody has any respect, anyway they already expect you to all give a checkTo tax-deductible charity organizationsAh, you've been with the professors and they've all liked your looksWith great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooksYou've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's booksYou're very well-read, it's well-knownBut something is happening here and you don't know what it isDo you, Mr. Jones?Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you and then he kneelsHe crosses himself and then he clicks his high heelsAnd without further notice, he asks you how it feelsAnd he says, "Here is your throat back, thanks for the loan"And you know something is happening but you don't know what it isDo you, Mr. 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's happening but you don't know what it isDo you, Mr. Jones?Well, you walk into the room like a camel, and then you frownYou put your eyes in your pocket and your nose on the groundThere ought to be a law against you comin' aroundYou should be made to wear earphones'Cause something is happening and you don't know what it isDo you, Mr. Jones?