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 dont understand
Just what youll say
When you get home
Because something is happening here
But you dont 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
"its his"
And you say, "whats 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 dont 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 dont 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
Youve been with the professors
And theyve all liked your looks