"The Morning Hour": A Dylan one

after forgetting to put the alarm on for two days in a row (i know we are going down with the work-ethics... and probably with something else as well), today i woke up with a 30' long interview to David Cameron, Tories leader (for the non UK residents). Jeez, he's a nice guy and smooth talker, but no music, no interruptions at all. A sign that the morning hour is on summer holidays.
So i switched the CD player on and played the cd that was inside: Dylan, "Blood on the tracks". I so wish i could love it madly (the album title is simply great) but truth is that i can't.
I've tried, but i'm not madly in love with Dylan, fact.

Some songs really amaze me though- as the case for this one.


with lyrics (80% of the fun is here)
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
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
Youve been through all of
F. scott fitzgeralds books
Youre very well read
Its well known

Because something is happening here
But you dont 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 high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister 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, youre a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister 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 ought to be a law
Against you comin around
You should be made
To wear earphones

Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?