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 ya 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"
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 ya don't 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

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

You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When somebody attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
Aw, 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 ya 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
His high heels
Without further notice he asks you
How it feels
And he says, "Here's your throat back
Thanks for the loan"

And you know something is happening here
But ya 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"

You know something is happening here
But ya 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 oughta be a law against you
Comin' around
You should be made to wear earphones

'Cause something is happening
And ya don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
'Cause something is happening
Yeah, and ya don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Mr. Jones
Mr. Jones
Mr. Jones

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Bob Dylan