Текст и слова песни Bob Dylan & The Band – Ballad Of A Thin Man (Live)
You walk into the room with your pencil in your hand
You 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, say, "Is this where it is?"
Somebody points to you and says, "It's his"
You say, "What's mine?", someone else says, "Well what is?"
You say, "Oh my God, am I here all alone?"
But something is happening here 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 the bone
And something is happening 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
No one has any respect, anyway they expect
You to give your check to tax-deductible charity organizations
You've been with professors, they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you 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 you frown
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 wearing a telephone
'Cause something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You 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, say, "Is this where it is?"
Somebody points to you and says, "It's his"
You say, "What's mine?", someone else says, "Well what is?"
You say, "Oh my God, am I here all alone?"
But something is happening here 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 the bone
And something is happening 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
No one has any respect, anyway they expect
You to give your check to tax-deductible charity organizations
You've been with professors, they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you 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 you frown
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 wearing a telephone
'Cause something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
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