Bob Dylan /

Ballad of a Thin Man

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 will say when you get home
Because something is happening here, but you don't know what it is
Do 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, "Where what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God, am I here all alone?"
But something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. 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
And something is happening here, but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?

You 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 all give a check to tax-deductible charity organizations

Ah, 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 are very well-read, it's well-known
But something is happening here and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. 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"
And you know something is happening, but you don't know what it is
Do 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 is happening, but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. 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 oughtta be a law against you comin' around
You should be made to wear earphones
'Cause something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?