Lyrics
You walk into the room with your pencil in your hand
See somebody naked, you say, "Who's that man?"
You try so hard but you don't understand
What you're gonna say when you get home
'Cause something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You raise up your head, said, "Is this what it is?"
Somebody points to you and says, "It's his"
You say, "What's mine?", somebody else says, "Where what is?"
You say, "Oh, my God, am I here all alone?"
'Cause something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You hand in your ticket to go see the geek
Who walks up to you when he hears you speak
Says, "How does it feel to be such a freak?"
You say, "Impossible" as he hands you a bone
Right, something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr, Jones?
You have many contacts among the lumberjacks
To get you facts when someone attacks your imagination
Nobody has any respect, anyway they already expect you
To give you 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
But still something's happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr, Jones?
You crawl 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 be wearin' a telephone
'Cause something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?